Three Souls
by RillDracas
Summary: My first posting on this site and my first posted WoT fic. A thoroughly modern gal ends up in Randland, and enlists the help of a most interesting traveling companion to survive.
1. Chapter 1

**Introduction**

Disclaimer: All Wheel of Time characters, etc belong to Robert Jordan. I am making no money off this story.

I've got to admit I love a good Mary Sue story every once in a while. They can be fun, and engaging and they really get to the heart of why most people write fan fiction in the first place. Reading, or watching, isn't enough for us. We want to be there with these characters, really get to know them.

However, lately I've been finding a lot of the our-world-to-theirs storylines that include avid book fans who somehow are able to completely adapt to the world in an instant. I find this incredibly annoying. So I decided to write this little tale, hopefully a slightly more realistic version about someone who's never heard of the Wheel of Time.

I imagine, it could be rather inconvenient being sucked into a world where indoor plumbing (and toilet paper) have yet to be invented. Not to forget all the nasty critters trying to eat you or suck out your soul, and many unpleasant folk running amuck with swords.

Anyway, I wanted everyone to know from the outset what I'm doing, so you don't have to waste your time if you're not into this sort of story. Oh, and as compensation for all the horrible things I'm about to do this character, I'm planning to hook her up with the characters I would most likely be attracted to. Considering my personal track record with men, this may get interesting. Besides, what's a good Sue without the romantic angle.

That will be a little later in the story though. Additionally, there are definite language warnings, and violence to follow. I think that covers all the preliminaries. For now, let's get this thing rolling...

**Chapter 1: The Beginning...**

OK, so I know it's not a very creative title, but that's what it was. The beginning. I should have known something was up when I got the call from Jerry Lee.

Now, Jerry Lee was a sometimes friend of mine (always a pain in my ass) who fancied himself a student of Native American shamanism, which is funny, considering this boy's about as Caucasian as you get. German Momma, Irish Daddy, little rich kid who mail ordered his peace pipe and loincloth from one of those expensive online stores.

So I answer my cell phone, and Jerry Lee's talking for five people, all tripping over his words. I gleaned from the conversation that he had recently acquired a rather large quantity of peyote buttons, and wished to indulge in a "vision quest" with a few of his closest friends.

Considering what happened the last time he went on one of these expeditions, he decided to ask me along as a bouncer/babysitter for the crew. Normally, I would have turned him down flat.

Spending two days in the middle of the Arizona desert watching people I don't know run around puking on themselves and talking to cacti is not my idea of a good time, but I had my own reasons for wanting to get as far from the city as possible that weekend.

I don't know what loud mouth fucker told Jerry Lee about my recent personal tragedy, but he then, as my friend, took it upon himself to provide me with an alternative to murdering my ex boyfriend in his sleep and spending the rest of my life in prison.

I said yes.

Don't know how things would have turned out if I'd said otherwise. Maybe it would have happened anyway. I've never been a big believer in Fate, Destiny, determinism, all that shit, but lately... well, I don't really know anymore.

Anyway, one Friday evening, myself, Jerry Lee, Susan McCullough, Danielle Ford and two guys whose names I don't remember were piled into the back of Jerry Lee's Volkswagon bus, bouncing across dirt roads. I don't exactly where we were - BLM land all looks the same to me - but we stopped at the bottom of this huge mesa in the middle of BFE. That's Bum Fuck Egypt to the uninitiated.

"I hope you don't expect me to climb that big ass hill, Jerry." I said eying the mesa suspiciously.

"Fuck, no, Lyse. We're just going on the other side here. Can't be in view of the van. Not conducive to spiritual enlightenment. Too modern."

"But you brought nylon tents, and tiki torches?"

"Nothing with an engine, Lyse. "

"You are a fucking freak, Jerry. And stay the hell away from my canteen...and the water supply. I don't trust you with that shit," I snapped at him, reaching under the back seat for my shotgun.

"Jesus, Lyse, what the fuck you bring that for?"

"Coyotes," I returned flatly.

He shrugged and finished dragging their gear out of the van. We set up camp on the other side of the mesa and had a nice little fire going before the sun set. I remember it was a full moon that night, and cold. Very cold. Desert cold is different though. It's dry and sort of... comforting, in a way.

I picked up my canteen and headed back to the van. We hadn't unloaded the water or the majority of the firewood. It wasn't that far of a walk. Back at the fire I could just barely hear them laughing as they passed the bottle around. They wouldn't be laughing quite so hard in a few hours.

Peyote's a rough trip.

Sure enough, about the time they started puking, I set myself up in the front seat of the van. I could watch the main road - if you could call it a road - from there, and not be "involved" in the chaos. I was only here as emergency back up, after all. They were grown adults - sort of.

I propped the doors open and popped an Eagles cassette into the player. Leaning the seat back and wrapping my duster a little closer around at the collar, I closed my eyes. I think I might have drifted off for a while. Should have been worried about running down the batteries, but I was already pissed at Jerry Lee, pissed at Brady (my ex)and his little slut, pissed at the world.

I woke to screaming.

This was not entirely unexpected, considering the purpose of the excursion, so at first, I wasn't particularly concerned. When the sound cut off abruptly, I started to get nervous. Typically, Jerry'd scream his fool head off for an hour or so.

I checked the shotgun, and stepped around the van, calling out as I circled the base of the mesa.

"Jerry? Jerry Lee?" No answer. "Susan? Danny?... Shit."

As I came in sight of the camp, I could see this huge furry shape outlined in the moonlight. It was hunched over one of the sleeping bags. I thought for a minute Jerrry'd managed to slip me something. Then it stood up.

I'd never seen anything like it in my life. Nearly ten feet tall, it's eyes glowed in the reflected moonlight, a sickly yellow, jaundiced color. It had horns, and it was holding Jerry's head in one paw. I'm proud to say, I didn't panic. I shouldered the shotgun, and the moment before the thing's head exploded, I realized with a sort of detached wonder, that it had been carrying a sword in the other paw. A sword for fuck's sake.

I didn't have much time to contemplate that fact because the thing wasn't alone. I saw other shapes moving towards me, and heard a woman start screaming somewhere in the darkness beyond the tents. My second shot took one of the things in the chest.

When I realized it was still coming towards me, I knew I was in serious trouble. I'm not ashamed to say I didn't give a good goddamn where the others were. I pumped that shotgun for all it was worth and started backing towards the truck - and my extra ammunition.

I had just touched the door handle when I heard a tremendous roaring that seemed to come from all around. I felt something pick me up, as though it had reached inside of me and yanked me into the air by my spleen... a brilliant flash of light, brighter than a thousand suns, and the worst pain I've ever felt in my life then...

Darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Making Friends**

This time, I woke up with my face in the sand, wondering if this was what dying felt like. I quickly decided that it couldn't possibly be, because it hurt too much. My whole body felt like it was on fire. Slowly, I pushed myself up onto my elbows to look around, and realized something was terribly, strangely...wrong.

I could feel a cool salt water breeze blowing. The sound of waves crashing and seabirds above me...

Waves? Seabirds?

Stiffly, I managed to pull myself into a sitting position. My clothes were covered in sand, I had sand in my hair, sand in my mouth, and a beautiful blue sparkling ocean in front of me. I blinked a few times. The ocean stayed precisely where it was.

"Am I dead?" I wondered, aloud.

"Hardly." A voice answered. I whirled around, a bit too fast, bright starbursts of pain exploding in my head.

Standing a short distance away, I saw a man dressed in the strangest outfit I've ever seen. He was wearing what looked like a short velvet - yes, I said velvet - dress, decorated with more gold thread than a man has a right to wear. He was quite a bit taller than me, with a hook nose and dark, deep set eyes. As far as I could guess, he looked to be in his late forties, hair just starting to go gray. From the look on his face, I figured this one had been carrying a corn cob up his ass for a while.

"Who the fuck are you?" I snapped, in no mood to deal with gawkers. I was still trying to figure out how the ocean ended up in Arizona.

A mildly shocked look crossed his face, quickly to be replaced by a wide grin. I looked down to discover my shirt was hanging open. I was too pissed to care. He made a slight bow. "Artur Paendrag Tanreal, at you service, milady."

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

He frowned. Apparently this was not the reaction he had been expecting. "You dare to comment on my clothing? You are dressed passing strange yourself."

"You're the one decked out like a gay leprechaun."

"Your words are strange, but their meaning is clear. Did your mother teach you nothing about manners?"

"She taught me its rude to stare." I picked myself up out of the sand and dusted off my clothes as best I could. I took my coat off and shook it out, blowing sand all over the place. I slung it over my shoulder. Unfortunately, my shotgun was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, memories of the night before flooded back. The shotgun. Those things... Jerry Lee. Damn.

I turned to the strangely dressed man, "I had friends with me."

"I've been here most of the morning. I've seen no one but you."

"We were camping out, and these things came, big, furry like coyotes on steroids, with swords..."

"Trollocs," he supplied, arching one eyebrow.

"They had horns. I think they ate my friends."

"Most likely, although there have been no Trollocs near the city in some time."

"City? We were in the middle of nowhere..." My head was still spinning. "Where am I?"

"The beach."

"Funny, asshole. What city?"

"Falme."

"Never heard of it. Is that anywhere near Phoenix?" I laughed at my own joke. He looked confused and a bit mystified.

"So, which way to the city?"

"Falme is not the safest place to be at the moment. I suggest..."

"Right now, Artur-with-the-really-long-last-name, I really don't give a good goddamn what you suggest. Which way is the city?"

He said nothing, just stared at me.

"Fine. I'll find it myself," and I started to walk away from him.

He sighed. "I will take you to the city. Follow." He spun around and walked down the beach, not looking back. I got the impression he was used to being obeyed.

Not having much choice, I followed him down the beach. Just over the next dune, I could see the city - if you could call it that. I stopped as we got in sight of the wall, reality slowly sinking in.

"Not in Kansas anymore..." I muttered under my breath.

"I'm sorry?"

"Where the fuck am I?"

"This is Falme, a port city on the Aryth Ocean. Currently the city is in a state of... transition shall we say?" He pointed to a row of armored - that's right - armored men marching out of the gate. I felt my knees buckle and slid to the ground, hyperventilating. This was not possible. This was not happening. I struggled to find an explanation.

"I have to visit my uncle in Syracuse next week!" I snapped at the man beside me, as though it were his fault. At that moment, I probably thought it was.

Nearby, a couple pulling a two wheeled cart eyed us strangely.

"I don't think..." he began, watching them make a wide detour around the two of us.

"You don't think what! How the fuck... I've got to get home. Damn Jerry Lee and his stupid ideas..." I was shaking.

He was kneeling beside me. A shadow fell across us. "Try to relax. Breathe. Now would be a good time to stop talking."

One of the soldiers had approached while I was freaking out.

He had a strange accent, so thick I almost couldn't understand his words. "Someone in this wretched land understands proper respect."

In a rush I realized he was talking about me. I started to get up, and beside me, Artur hissed, "Just stay on you knees, lower, nose in the dirt, if you want to keep your head."

Normally, this was not something I would do. Something in his tone convinced me. That and the large sword swinging from the man's hip, quite close to my right ear. I decided I would much prefer for it to stay on his hip, so I shoved my nose into the ground and kept it there until the shadow retreated.

"Nice place, nice people," I said sarcastically, struggling to my feet. My throat was parched and my stomach was doing flip flops. For several reasons. "Where do I catch the next bus back to Phoenix?"

"What's a bus?" He asked, then glanced around, looking worried. We had gathered quite a crowd. "Stop talking and come with me."

"Are you telling me to shut up? Because if you knew anything about me you'd know..."

"BE SILENT WOMAN! Now."

"You..."

"Trust me."

"Give me one good reason..."

"I just saved your life."

I remembered the soldier, and the sword, and I shut up. We moved away from the crowd.

"I need to explain something to you, and its going to sound quite...strange. Absurd."

"I'm laughing already," I said drily.

"I should have told you earlier perhaps, but, I have...er... this is quite awkward...You may want to sit down."

"Spit it out," I snapped, sinking to the grass.

"I've been ...deceased... for quite some time. So you see, those folk back there they... they can't actually see me..."

He was crazy. "You're dead."

"Yes."

"I'm talking to a dead man."

"King, actually."

Definitely crazy. I was stranded god-knows-where with a crazy man.

I was about to get up and run as quickly as I could in the opposite direction. It seemed the logical course of action.

As I watched, a slight breeze ruffled my hair, leaving his untouched. A chill ran down my spine. It was a hot day, and dressed in velvet, he should have been sweating his ass off. Not a drop, not a hair out of place. Looking back, I realized he hadn't left any footprints in the sand.

"You're dead."

He nodded.

"Prove it."

He grinned, reached out and grabbed my breast.

Or he would have except his hand went right through my body. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I'm in hell. I have died and gone to hell."

"I don't know this hell you speak of, but I can assure you, you are very much alive," he offered, in a tone I assume was supposed to be reassuring.

"Fuck." Which pretty much said it all. I could just picture what I looked like, standing there having a conversation with thin air, and hearing the air answer. Dead king. King-fucking-Arthur in velvet.

"If your current state of affairs upsets you so, feel free to go after our armored friend. I'm certain he can arrange things more to your liking."

"I don't need your sarcasm. I caught my fucking boyfriend on the couch with Helen Dewey three days ago, those fuzzy things..." I searched for the word.

"Trollocs," he offered, helpfully.

"trollocs ate my friends last night. I'm tired, sunburned, dehydrated, hungry and..." I took out my wallet and held up a twenty. "I don't suppose you people take American currency?"

He looked confused for a moment, then brightened. "If you feel well enough for a short walk, milady, I believe I can solve your...currency...problem. At least for the moment."

As I followed him away from the city, I felt as though any control I may have had over my own life was rapidly slipping away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: An interesting new profession**

This day just kept getting better and better. At the moment, I was buried up to the elbow in soft mud, trying to dig up buried treasure. In a cemetery.

"I went to college for this," I muttered.

Grave robbing. Hell of a profession.

"I assure you that the current occupant of this tomb has no further use for his baubles. However the local authorities will not understand such logic. To use your own language, hurry the fuck up!"

Coming from His Majesty, that sounded really funny.

"Just get your ex-royal ass over there and let me know if anyone's coming..." I snarled, then continued my task. I had been informed it was not technically a grave, it was a caern. The grave was a few feet to the left. Which made me feet much better considering I had my hand shoved three feet into the dirt, digging blind.

If I wasn't starving I doubt this would have seemed like such a good idea.

"Are you sure it's here? Maybe someone got the idea before you did. I swear, if I come up with anything that used to belong on a person..."

"No one has visited this site in years."

My fingertips brushed something hard. "This had better be..." I began, taking hold of the edge of what felt like a small box. "Got it!" I pulled my prize out of the dirt.

I did the best I could to cover up my recent activity as quickly as I could and hauled ass away from the place. His Majesty might find my apprehension amusing, but disrespecting the dead hadn't really been in my repertoire. Until today.

This particular dead man was rapidly changing my policy. "Stop staring at my ass."

"My apologies. Force of habit."

"Sort of a waste of time at this point, isn't it? It's not like you can, you know..." I asked as I dusted off the box. It looked like a miniature hope chest, wood, inlaid with ... "Is this gold?"

"Yes. And I enjoy looking. I don't enjoy much these days. You are the first...living...person I've spoken to in, well... it's been a long time."

I broke the lock on the chest. It was rotting out so it wasn't nearly as impressive a task as it sounds like. Inside was a pile of gold and silver coins. I stuffed them into the pockets of my duster, then knocked the rotting wood away from the gold inlay. There were a few smallish jewels as well. I stuffed the whole mess into another pocket while His Majesty watched, with that annoying grin on his face again.

"I commend your efficiency. One would almost think you'd done this before."

"I haven't," I snapped. "Someone will buy this."

"That they will. But not here. We should return to Falme. A larger city would be better."

I shuddered at the thought of going back there. The soldiers had given me the creeps in a major way. "I'll just hang onto it until we get far enough away. The coins will spend, right?"

"Certainly. Although your clothing will raise suspicions."

"Fine, I'll buy new clothes."

"I doubt you'll find a suitable tailor between here and ..."

"Alright. We'll do it your way. We go back the way we came."

"There's a wonderful inn called the Blue Marlin which I highly recommend. Their gleeman is excellent and his apprentice has the most lovely hips... er, voice, I've ever ..." The man drifted off, apparently unaware that he had done so.

"If I knew what a gleeman was, that would make more sense."

"An entertainer, a cross between a court bard and a traveling minstrel."

"I don't care what sort of entertainment they have as long as I can get a bath, and something to eat. And a beer."

"I've heard the Blue Marlin has excellent brew."

Finally, something was starting to go my way. "Blue Marlin it is! Lead the way."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: A Bargain is Struck**

The Blue Marlin was a hole in the wall, but at least they'd been able to get me some hot water. I lounged in a wooden tub, just barely big enough to fit into, wondering how they got the thing not to leak. His Majesty was currently pacing the room ranting about the soldiers we'd seen earlier.

I picked up a grayish lump of what was supposed to be soap and sniffed it dubiously. "So these guys are like your great-great-grandkids or something?"

He stopped ranting mid-sentence and turned to look at me. An amazing recovery. "In a manner of speaking."

"And the chicks on leashes?"

"Channelers. I had hoped they would have been culled out of the bloodline by this time, but no one has ever understood how dangerous they are."

"I figured it was some sort of S and M thing."

He arched one eyebrow. It was his way of asking a question without sounding like an idiot.

"S and M. Sado-masochism, Marquis de Sade. 'Sticks and stones may break my bones but whips and chains excite me.' Handcuffs, nipple clamps..."

I saw him mouth the word nipple clamps, as if trying to match an image to the words...

"...it's pretty big in some of the larger cities where I come from. LA, New York. They have clubs made up to look like huge dungeons."

"Your country sounds disturbing. Perhaps you should consider remaining here."

"Yeah, well, I could say a few things about this place." I ducked my head, then attacked my hair with what was left of the soap. "This soap sucks. It's going to be murder on my skin."

"If you remain in the water much longer, your skin will probably peel off on its own." I threw the soap at him. It went right through his head and bounced off the wall behind him. He just grinned.

The water was starting to get chilly, though. I finished rinsing as best I could, picked up a cloak I'd bought earlier and used it to dry off, trying to ignore him. Complaining only encouraged him.

I turned around to find him studying me intently. "You do have a well turned ankle."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I was attempting to offer a compliment." I finished drying off and hung the cloak up to dry, and put a few more logs on the fire. I had discovered that in this place, no one sold pre-made clothes. I had to spend half an hour getting poked and prodded by the tailor, listening to him bitch about my jeans. Then he turned right around and tried to find out where I bought them.

It was rather amusing when I told him he could pick up a pair at Old Navy and he tried to act like he went there all the time. Anyway, I was picking up my new wardrobe tomorrow. For tonight... I dumped my sandy, ripped up, sweaty clothes into the now frigid water, walked through Artur to pick up the discarded soap.

"Ankles, eh? Lots of foot fetishists around here?"

"It is a polite way of telling someone you find them attractive."

"So 'nice ass' is not acceptable?"

He sighed and gave me a long suffering look. "I refuse to dignify that with an answer."

I scrubbed the hell out of my clothes with what was left of the soap, getting as much muck out of them as I could. "So can men have 'well turned ankles' or is it chick-specific?"

"It would be appropriate for a man as well."

"Wonderful. Of all the things I need to know about this land, proper flirting techniques are right up there on my top ten list. What I really need to know is how to get home. Any ideas there?"

I had already related the story, as much as I could remember anyway. He seemed skeptical, but then, he was the dead one, so I'm sure that helped with the believability factor.

"I've never heard of such a thing happening, not even in stories. However, I am neither scholar, nor bard. Perhaps you should speak to someone well versed in such things, you may find some answers."

"There's got to be some sort of historical archives in this place. You all do write, yes?"

"Most of the knowledge of the last Age has been stolen by the Tar Valon witches, hidden away at their White Tower."

"Sounds like a potential starting point."

"Have you been listening to anything that I've tried to tell you? Those women are dangerous, and highly unlikely they'll let you walk in and rummage through their storerooms."

"Well, I've got to start somewhere. The worst they can say is no, then we go to plan B."

"Which is?"

"I don't know yet. I'll figure it out on the way. Where is this Tower thingy?"

"It will be a long journey. After you are properly dressed, I will help you find supplies."

"You're going with me?"

"Of course."

"I figured, the way you've been talking about these women, you wouldn't want to come."

"I trust you would survive less than a day without my assistance. I did not fear them in life. I do not fear them now."

I would have argued with him, but he was probably right, so I just flipped him the bird, doused the light, wrapped up in the scratchy wool blanket that had come with the room, and prayed the previous occupant didn't have lice. "Good night, Your Majesty." I said, dropping as much sarcasm as I could into the title.

"Sleep well, milady," he returned, gallantly.

I hate skirts. Always feel like I've got bugs crawling into places they definitely shouldn't be. Not to mention the draftiness, and constantly getting wrapped up in them. I had to give Artur credit, though. With his help, I looked fabulous, and I hadn't spent much of our stash. Since I wasn't looking forward to digging around in any more burial mounds in the near future, this was a very good thing.

It was rapidly becoming apparent to me that in this place I had one marketable skill, and that was not for sale.

Just so you know, I'm not a complete waste. I just have very specialized interests. I had graduated two years ago from the University of Phoenix with a degree in da-da-da, are you ready for this... "Classics." That would be specifically Greek, Latin and a smattering of Hebrew and Aramaic. I also speak and write fluent German and Spanish. I can hold my own with French. You can see where this discussion is going.

None of these seemed to be currently in use in this twilight zone I had fallen into. Why the hell everybody spoke English here was beyond me. Perhaps I was just hearing English. At this point, nothing was outside the range of possibility.

Anyway, I bought a horse. Artur bitched at me for over half an hour about letting the trader get too much for it, but I was tired of the bargaining crap. All these merchants seemed to enjoy haggling. I myself would enjoy getting out of the city. Another night at the Blue Marlin was not on my agenda.

The beer sucked.

I'm not going to give you the details of the next few hours. We couldn't settle on anything without an argument. Which, considering only one of us was visible, created some interesting scenes. I pretty much convinced the entire population of Falme that I was insane. At least they weren't upset to see me leave.

We stayed on what passed for a main road in this place, basically a really wide stretch of dirt with wheel ruts in it. I noticed we were passing a lot of soldiers, but as long as I dropped my eyes and got out of their way, they didn't seem too interested.

We rode until the sun just began to set, and then moved off the road to set up camp. I was so happy to be away from the city that I didn't really mind sleeping on the ground.

That is, until I woke up the next morning.

No coffee. No cigarettes. Stiff? Yeah, I don't know... have you ever felt like someone jammed a broomstick up you ass until it came out the top of your head and then told you to do jumping jacks for an hour. Well, that almost comes close to how I felt that morning. I'd like to say I've adjusted, gotten all outdoorsy and tough, but I really can't.

All I can really say is I got used to not being able to move my arms above my head until after noon.

Anyway, you get the picture.

I actually managed to avoid any near death experiences until we decided to stop in a small town, about three days later. I wanted to find out where the next town would be, so I could make sure I had enough food, and grain for the horse.

I also wanted to make sure we were going in the right direction.

Artur knew the general direction of the White Tower, but since he could move from place to place pretty much by thinking about it, that didn't do me any good. He tried to give me directions from when he was campaigning against them, but I figured out quickly that his memories of his days in the land of the living were pretty fuzzy.

He knew events, faces, place names, battles, but somehow the important details got lost somewhere. It's like he kept anything he was emotionally attached to, and lost the rest of it. I asked him once what it felt like to die. He told me he couldn't remember. He had no memories of his death. Only a sense of being where he didn't belong. And he missed his wife.

He talked about her all the time, which surprised me as much as he commented on every farm girl we passed. I think it was his way of dealing with it. The separation. Like if he acted as though he didn't care, the pain would go away. Listening to him talk about her, I wanted to help him. I decided if I ever got to this Tower, I would ask them about him too. Maybe someone would tell me why he was stuck here.

If they believed me, of course.

So we rode into this town, more like a village really. I could see dirty faced children running about. We had passed fields on the way in, and sheep. Lots of sheep. It looked like something out of a Monty Python skit. And things were about to get a whole lot better.

I suppose I could have avoided the whole situation if I'd listened to Artur and exchanged my duster for a cloak. But I didn't really expect my choice of outer wear to be that big of a problem. I motioned one of the scruffy little bastards over and gave him a copper coin to hold my horse while I checked out the inn.

I knew as soon as I walked through the door, something was not right. The whole room fell silent. Talking to the man at the bar were three men clothed in what looked to me like dresses. Long, floor length white dresses. As one, they turned and stared at me.

"Whitecloaks," Artur hissed at my ear.

Which meant nothing to me of course.

One of the men turned to his companions and made an extremely derogatory comment about my fucking jacket.

I started to leave, and one of them called out to me to stay where I was. I turned slowly around and said the first thing that came to my mind. "Hey Art, the man in the dress doesn't like my coat."

The man stepped towards me and I met him halfway cross the room. He was about six inches taller than me, but at 5'2" I'm used to being shorter than everyone else. It doesn't intimidate me.

"A woman." he said, sounding too pleased with himself for making the discovery.

"Which would put me out of your spheres of interest, I'm certain." I caught myself quickly "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm being prejudiced. Wearing a dress does not technically make you gay, I suppose." I turned to his companions. "What do you say, gentlemen? Your friend here like girls?"

They both gaped.

"While I've got your attention, let me tell you a few things about this jacket. 129.95 plus tax and shipping, straight from Auckland. That's in New Zealand. Oil impregnated cotton, the seams are treated with beeswax. 100 waterproof, even in a downpour, and cut..." I swirled around, with a flourish, so they could see the back of the coat, "...to fit over Western or Australian saddles. Comes in two colors, black and dogshit brown. I got black because I don't wear anything colored dogshit brown. And last time I checked, wearing a black coat doesn't make one a devil worshiper.

"So I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to turn around now, and walk out that door. And if you don't like it, you can have Paco there," I indicated one of his friends who held a wicked looking crossbow. "Shoot me in the back of the head on my way out, because I am not interested in anything you have to say."

I matched actions to words and strode towards the door. Under my breath, I asked Artur, "Think they're going to shoot me?"

"About a 50/50 chance," he answered brightly.

"Mind taking a look?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Not really," I said as we reached the door. I let it slam behind me, retrieved my horse from he kid, tossed him and extra coin, and started on down the road. As I reached the edge of town, I heard someone coming up behind me, quickly. I braced myself for searing pain. Instead, a man's voice called out "Milady!"

I didn't recognize the man that rode up beside me, plowing right through Artur, who cursed him vehemently as we spoke.

"Beg you pardon, milady, but I was at the inn... before. I have never seen such a performance."

"Glad you liked it. In case you can't tell, I'm leaving now." I kept riding.

He matched pace with me. "Are you traveling alone?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"In a manner of... if I may be so bold..."

"Apparently you are going to be. What do you want?"

"My father and I, along with several other merchants are traveling to Andor. As you are a stranger in our land,...

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"...and alone, I thought..."

"That you would ride to the rescue of the fair lady?"

"I..."

"I'm sure you're a very nice person and your motives are completely pure, but I don't need your help."

Artur stopped cursing and attempted to cut in, "Actually..."

"Please, milady..."

"Alright cut that crap. My name is Alicia."

"Cedric. Cedric of Roun. And being a stranger, you would not know that you have arrived in dark times. Whitecloaks and these Seanchean are the least of the problems that plague this land. Traveling with us does not assure your safety, of course, but it may..."

"Ask him where he's headed," Artur snapped.

"What's your destination?"

The young man relaxed a little. "Caemlyn, milady. In Andor. Then..." he glanced over his shoulder nervously, and lowered his voice, "Tar Valon."

"Perfect. We'll... I mean I'll ride with you as far as Tar Valon."

That same lowered voice, "Are you, perhaps, on your way to train at the Tower?"

I laughed. "No, kid. I'm just stopping off there to do a little light reading."

Meeting the merchants from Roun was the first of several odd coincidences which pushed me in far too specific directions through this strange world. I like having control of my life. Fate and I had always gone out of the way to avoid each other. We were soon to become very well acquainted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Tar Valon**

I have no idea how long it took us to reach Tar Valon. Too fucking long. Between dealing with Cedric's constant attempts to get under my skirt, and Artur's snide comments about anything and everything, I was ready to throw myself off the bloody Tower.

I ditched the wagon train the minute we were through the gates and found a decent place to stable my horse. Plenty of room for horses, but all the inns were full up. I figured I could just come back and crash in the hay loft, so I headed straight for the Tower.

It was easy to find, dominating the cityscape as it did. I walked up to the wrong gate, and a rather dour looking fellow in a strange cloak informed me I had to walk all the way around to the other side. From him, I was able to figure out that the head honcho, called the Amyrlin Seat, had visiting hours daily.

Sort of.

Turns out you had to put in a proposal to talk to the woman. Sounded practical, until I had to wait in an incredibly long line for two days just to put in the proposal. I ended up spending the second night in the yard because I figured out I wasn't going to get close if I didn't.

When I finally got to talk to someone, she stared down her nose at me. I stammered out as much of my story as I could, watched her make some notes in a book and she sent me off to the side to wait in another line.

Eventually, two women came out wearing little yellow capes, looked me up and down, asked a lot of stupid questions, and did this laying-on-the- hands number that made me feel like I'd swallowed a box of cottonballs for a minute or two. They apologized several times. For what, I'm not certain. Then they wished me well and headed off without ever mentioning the Amyrlin chick.

"Yellow Ajah."

I jumped about three feet as Artur spoke in my ear.

"They are rumored to be skilled healers," he sounded entirely unconvinced.

"I'm not sick."

"Apparently, they don't agree."

Understanding dawned on me. "Medieval shrinks," I muttered.

"I suggest we move to plan B."

Unfortunately, I still hadn't come up with plan B yet. I glanced around. Between the inner and outer walls was a rather extensive garden, complete with fountains. "I think I'm going to go for a walk."

"You still don't have a plan B, do you?" He smirked.

"Perceptive. It'll come. I just need to take in the lay of the land."

"I believe this part of the gardens are open to the public."

"I wasn't planning on asking permission. After all, I am crazy, y'know."

He chuckled.

"Why don't you go inside and see what you can find out. Seeing as you can walk through walls and such."

He bowed melodramatically. "As you wish, milady."

He disappeared through the gate in front of me. I turned and walked across the garden, completely ignoring the shocked stares of the people waiting behind me in line. The place was quite...extravagant. Well manicured bushes, and cute little rock paths stretched around the entire base of the tower. One section of the gardens was walled off, and sealed behind a locked gate. Through the gate, I could see what appeared to be rose bushes.

The Tower had lots of small windows higher up, but the walls were completely smooth, no cracks showing at all. I wondered how they'd built it. Even back home, we couldn't do anything like this. It was an incredible piece of architecture, but scaling it was outside the realm of possibility.

I decided to walk around the other side of the gate. As I crossed back to the yard, a side door opened that I hadn't seen before and a short dour looking woman in a blue dress came out, followed by probably the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.

I am not exaggerating. He was at least six feet, broad shoulders, long dark wavy hair down past his shoulders. I've never been in the habit of undressing men with my eyes, but it had been a really long time, and he would look really good naked, laid out on the bed, all tanned and glistening...

I let out my breath in a soft whistle. "Damn the ankles, I'll take the whole leg."

Both of them looked up in surprise.

I hadn't meant to say that out loud and I felt my face get hot.

The woman scowled. "This side of the garden is not open to the public."

"I'm really sorry for the comment, but your boyfriend is hot."

They both stared at me in confusion. He caught my meaning first and laughed.

She stepped quickly away from him, and a look of utter disgust crossed her face as she finally understood my meaning.

"So ya'll aren't...together?" I asked, stepping into the space she'd put between them.

"No. What... who... what are you doing here?" She snapped

I ignored her and stuck my hand out. "Alicia Thomas. Friends call me Lyse."

"Logain Ablar. A pleasure, milady." He took my hand, but rather than shake it, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. I melted. I'm surprised I didn't just pass out right there. It's not everyday a girl has her hand kissed by a gorgeous stranger. At least not where I come from.

"Lyse." So now we weren't strangers.

"Lyse," he repeated, softly. This close, I could see his eyes. Dark, long lashes. Intense as they met my gaze, but also cautious. As though he expected me to bolt. I wasn't going anywhere. Much to the chagrin of the girl behind me.

I turned and introduced myself to her as well but I kept my hand to myself. Her face was so red by this time, I thought the top of her head might pop right off from the pressure. I just smiled the biggest, friendliest smile I could muster.

She turned on her heels and went back into the Tower, at a dead run.

"She won't be long returning," he murmured, half to himself.

"Then we should make good use of the time we have."

He shot me a dark look, full of suspicion.

I smiled and shrugged. "Sorry. I think it, it comes right out of my mouth."

He shook his head in disbelief, then straightened his shoulders and held out his arm. "Would you care to see the rest of the gardens?"

I took his arm and we walked around to the front, where I had been originally headed. Silence fell as we passed, and I almost laughed out loud. We ended up at a small splashing fountain which fed into a larger pond. There were two large willows drooping over the edge, and I could see some large decorative fish swimming in the water.

"I've never seen a purple koi before," I mused, keeping my eyes on the water. My mother had taught me some manners, after all.

"Hmm?"

"Koi. The fish. They're some sort of koi."

I turned to find him watching me intently.

"So, what's your story?" I asked, just trying to get him to talk wo I didn't have to.

"You don't know?" He sounded almost insulted. It was cute.

"No clue. I'm not from around here."

"You must be from the other side of the world not to know who I am."

"You're that important, eh?" I shot him a smile to let him know I was teasing.

"Important? No. Just that great a fool."

"So, you gonna tell me, or should I ask Short, Blue and Bitchy when she shows up with the cavalry."

"I raised an army, declared myself the Dragon Reborn, captured Ghealdan and part of Tear."

"Why?"

"I..." I could see him struggling for an answer and fail. "I'm not sure."

"Seems like if I was going to start a war, I would have to have a pretty clear idea why I was doing it."

"I can... could... channel. I could have been the Dragon as easily as any."

"Not too clear on those two concepts. Channeling, and the Dragon thing. A friend tried to explain channeling to me, but he mostly did a lot of cursing people who do it. He doesn't like them too much. And I thought dragons were big winged mythical creatures who fly and breathe fire."

He sighed. "It would take time for me to fully explain the history of the Dragon. Or channeling, for that matter. Basically, the One Power allows you to do... things outside normal human ability. Calling lightning. Fire from nothing."

"Magic."

The word didn't register with him. I heard a commotion behind us. He glanced behind me and scowled. I didn't bother to turn around.

A woman's voice, high pitched, nasal and demanding came from just over my right shoulder. "Ablar, what exactly do you think you're doing?"

Smoothly, he answered, "Having a civilized conversation. My first, I might add, since accepting your gracious offer of hospitality."

I wanted to applaud. I couldn't have done better myself. I didn't have the whole story yet, but I could tell he didn't want to be here.

"And you!" The woman turned on me. "You have no right to be here. If you wish to petition the Amyrlin, you should join the line with the others rather than ..."

"Actually, I did. And since she apparently didn't have time to see me today, I figured I'd wait until tomorrow before putting my name back in the hat. In the meantime I wanted to see the gardens. This section is, I believe, open to the public, yes?"

"Yes, of course, but..." she broke off, realizing what she had just said.

I stared up at her, all innocent, wide doe eyes. "Am I doing something wrong?"

Both of us just stared at her. The short woman stood behind her looking confused and sullen.

A long, tense moment passed. Then she sniffed. I know it sounds weird, but that's what she did, a long, loud sniff, like someone doing a line of coke just a bit too big for them to handle. "I suppose not." She spoke in harsh whispers to the other woman, then to the two other women with her. "Any trouble from you Ablar..." She let the threat hang in the air as she left. The other woman stayed behind.

As soon as she was out of sight, I burst into a fit of giggles. It was so completely ridiculous... "What do they think you're going to do?" I gasped between fits.

When he answered, the chill in his voice silenced my laughter. "If I still had the Power in my grasp, I'd raze this Tower to the ground."

"A man after my own heart." Artur's voice close to my ear made me jump.

Logain and the Bitch in Blue both looked at me strangely.

"Damn it Artur, don't sneak up on me like that."

Logain arched his eyebrows. The woman took a step away from me.

"I forgot to mention, I have a ghost."

"What?"

"A ghost. I have a ghost."

"You don't have to say it like that," Artur pouted.

"Like what?" I watched the woman take a few more steps back.

"Like it's a case of the pox."

I turned to Logain, who had that suspicious look on his face again. "Excuse me for just a minute. Please." I turned to His Majesty "Find out anything useful?"

"Found the novice quarters. You wouldn't believe what some of these young ladies do in their spare time..."

"Artur..."

"OK, yes, I did find the libraries. All four of them and I'm telling you there is no way we are going to be able to find what we need without help."

"That sucks. Look, I was having a good conversation. Do you think you could, skedaddle for a while. Go spy on some Novices or something?"

"Who's your new friend?"

"Logain."

"Yes?" Logain answered, attempting to ignore the fact that I was talking to the air. Which was quite nice of him, I suppose.

"The false Dragon!" Artur almost shouted at me. "Girl, you are trying to get yourself killed! Very well. I shall leave you to it. At least then, I shall have some company." And he walked back through the wall.

"Sorry about that. He gets really huffy when I ignore him. Apparently he used to be a king or something. When you die, do you stop being a king? Or is it a permanent title, like President?"

"I never really thought about it."

"So I guess now you're not going to talk to me. The whole, being crazy thing."

He shrugged. "If I had not been brought here, I would have been doing worse than hearing voices in a few years. I rather enjoy being in the company of someone who doesn't jump out of their skin every time I move." He said this last with a very pointed look at our frazzled chaperone.

"Give her a break, Legs. She's just protecting your honor or something, I'm sure."

"From what, pray tell."

"Me, of course," I said, smiling widely. "So you started this war, right? Why'd they bring you here then? Why not chop your head off or plunk you in a prison cell somewhere?"

"The White Tower deals with men who channel in their own way," bitterness crept into his voice. "They call it gentling."

"Isn't that something people do to horses?"

"They cut you off from the Source, but not completely." His eyes sort of glazed over and his voice was barely above a whisper. "I can still feel it, barely, just beyond my reach. Only I can't touch it. It's like..."

Long moments of silence. The pain of the separation was etched on his face. I reached out and touched his hand. He jerked the hand away from me.

"It's like having half your soul ripped away."

"Sounds... horrible."

The Bitch in Blue found her voice. "Not as horrible as the alternative. Countries torn by war. A second Breaking. Mountains flattened into valleys, cities destroyed in a momentary blaze of flame. All for the sake of the madness. And still they sicken and die."

I turned furious eyes on her. "Sounds like communist propaganda to me. How do you know all that's going to happen."

I was surprised when he came to her defense. Quietly, but he did. "The madness is real enough. At the end of the last Age, the Lord of Shadow was bound beneath Shayol Ghul. His last act was to taint the male half of the Source. That much is true. But death... death would be better than this... half life."

"Well," I said, mustering the courage to sound insulted, "I am so glad that you would rather be dead than talking to me. I'll just leave now." I stood up. He caught my hand.

"I meant no disrespect. Please, stay."

I hadn't really planned on leaving anyway. It was just a ploy to snap him out of wherever he'd dropped into. I sat back down, slowly.

"So, tell me about the Dragon."

"It's a long story."

"I don't have anywhere to be." I tucked my legs under me in a lotus position and settled in for the story.

It was a long story. By the time the sun began to drop, he was only about halfway into it, which of course, gave me the perfect excuse to come back tomorrow. I left the Tower grounds humming softly to myself.

Later that night, Artur and I discussed the beginnings of plan B.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: The Power of Stubborness**

True to my word I showed up bright and early the next day and put in my second petition to the Amyrlin seat, which was summarily ignored. After being informed that I would not be seen, I casually wandered out into the gardens, and found Logain waiting for me, this time with a tall, thin, pinch faced woman.

He informed me that there were three ranks on the way to becoming Aes Sedai - which is what these women called themselves. It meant "Servants of All" in their Old Tongue. The other two ranks were Novice - the meaning of which was obvious - and Accepted,- which was sort of the intermediary stage.

The women guarding him were Accepted. They didn't call it guarding, but that's what it felt like to me. I figured out that they sere supposed to be "attending" him and made a great game out of sending them to get stuff. I got a few smiles out of him for that.

He didn't smile much, but when he did, it was amazing.

I sent Artur into the libraries to start looking for books which would be useful, and settled in for the second half of the Life and Times of Lews Therin Telamon. Before he declared himself the Dragon Reborn, Logain had gone to the trouble to learn all he could about the original Dragon, so he was a wealth of information on this particular subject.

He had a great storytelling style. He would drop into an almost metered rhythm. I wasn't the best audience. I kept getting distracted every time he shifted his weight. The man had incredible legs, and the tights these people wore didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination. Anyway, he told me about Lews Therin Kinslayer, and how he got that name.

Over the next few weeks, this became a daily pattern. I would show up before sunrise, put in my petition, and be refused. Then I'd wander into the garden to find my sexy storyteller.

He told me about the War of the Shadow, and the thirteen Forsaken. He told me everything he knew about the wars that followed. Eventually Artur's name came up, and of course, he had to sit on the other side, correcting everything that Logain said where only I could hear it. I thought Artur was going to have kittens when we got to talking about his wife.

Apparently they thought he had something to do with her death. He freaked. Stormed off ranting. I could hear him through the Tower wall. But the strangest thing about that was as soon as he started shouting, the wind whipped down, chilled me right to the bone. At the time, I dismissed it, but that was the first time his moods ever effected something in the physical world.

Anyway, life went on like this for a long time.

I guess they thought I would just get bored and wander off one day, but they'd obviously never dealt with pure Yankee perseverance (stubbornness) before.

Logain said I could "put the Two Rivers folk to shame", whatever the hell that meant.

It took him a while to get around to asking me what was so bloody important. I think he was afraid if he pried too much I'd stop coming to visit him.

We were sitting in our usual spot, under the willows. I'd long since given up the bench for the green grass. I was stretched out with my head in his lap. Nothing ever happened between us. There were always people around. Sisters, Warders. I would have, if he'd ever brought the subject up. I would have found a way, if it meant sneaking into the broom closet.

But he never did. These little moments seemed to be enough. I liked to touch him. He liked to touch me. I think we both needed it - that contact - so badly at the time. Artur complained about it, but less vehemently as time passed. I think he was jealous, in a way.

Anyway, Logain had just finished telling me what he knew of the Aiel Wars. He knew a lot about military history, which made sense. I had my eyes closed and was just sort of digesting the information, filing it away to use later, I guess. He kept running his hand through my hair, without really thinking about it.

I was almost asleep when he asked me, "Why are you here?"

It was so out of the blue that it caught me off guard. "I..."

I wasn't going to tell him. He already thought I was crazy for talking to a dead man, but I've never been a good liar. The story spilled out of me as if it had a life of it's own. Jerry Lee, Trollocs in Arizona, Falme, grave robbing, the merchant train, all of it, right up to the moment I walked in and saw him.

"...so I have to get into the library so I can find out how to get home. And how to get Artur back with his wife where he belongs. I owe it to him, for keeping me alive."

He was silent for a long time. His hands had dropped to his side.

"You could be the first woman gleeman with tales like that Lyse."

I tried to be angry at him. Really I did. But I couldn't blame him for not believing me. I still didn't believe it myself. I sat up quickly.

"I know it sounds impossible. But it's the truth."

"I know it is."

OK. That I wasn't expecting.

"In all the time I've spent with you, I've not once heard you tell a lie. I've never known you to hold your tongue either, even when it might be warranted. I have no reason to doubt anything you say. Besides, that story is too incredible not to be true. And it certainly explains why you didn't recognize me."

"OK."

"If you ever get into the library..."

"When I get into the library."

"When, then. You should speak to one of the Brown sisters. They are versed in such things, and easier to deal with than the other Ajahs. If I think of anything that might help you, I'll let you know. You should know that most of the texts you'll need are going to be written in the Old Tongue."

"A minor roadblock."

"You read Old Tongue?"

"Nope. But Artur does, and I should pick it up pretty quick. Languages are my thing."

I glanced at the sky. The sun was setting. "I hate to cut this short, but I need to get back to the inn before they give my room to someone else. They did that last week and I ended up sleeping in the stable."

"I would offer you my room, but there may be some...objections raised," he said, with a sly smile and a tilt of his head to the silent woman behind us. "I'll escort you as far as the gate."

Two months. It took two months for the bloody woman to talk to me, but I won.

I had completed the daily ritual of placing my name in the book. I figured they had stopped writing it down by then. I had gathered up my things and was getting ready to traipse off into the garden, when a short dark haired sister I'd never seen before approached.

"The Amyrlin will see you now."

Six words I had never expected to hear in the same sentence.

And my response? "You're shittin' me."

She blinked twice, and smiled cooly. "Follow me, please."

I tossed my knapsack over my shoulder and followed her into the Tower, not quite sure what to feel. Artur appeared at my shoulder as if by magic.

"Don't look her in the eye, whatever you do. Stay cool. Don't believe a word that comes out of her mouth. Keep your temper..."

We walked through several corridors, all windy and twisting, until we came to a nicely furnished sitting room. The woman left me there to wait. And I waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Bored, I got up and started looking through the drawers, checking under the couch cushions for loose change, that sort of thing. I was on my knees intently trying to figure out how they got the cool mosaic on the floor that I didn't hear the door open behind me.

"What exactly are you doing?" a cool voice interrupted my thoughts.

I sprang to my feet, a bit embarrassed. "Nothing. Just checking out the interior decorating."

She was taller than me, but everyone in this world seemed to be. Dark hair, cool blue eyes. Handsome in a scary sort of way. She wore this gaudy fur thing around her neck which Logain had already warned me about. No one should wear a multi colored fur stole for any reason whatsoever. Major fashion faux pas.

"I have read your proposal each day for nearly two months now. As preposterous as it sounds, I cannot but think that you are going to return each day until it is answered. State your case."

"I already told the girl at the gate everything. I need to get into your libraries so I can figure out how to get home. And how to get Artur back to his wife."

"Artur. Artur Hawkwing." Her voice was completely flat. Totally unreadable, but the expression on her face said clearly she thought I was nuts.

I nodded.

"You speak to the dead often?"

"Only this one particular dead man." Who was currently trying to look up her dress.

"Tell her she's wearing blue silk panties."

"I am NOT telling her anything of the kind!" I exploded, without thinking about it.

She blinked. Twice. "The High King is here now?"

"Oh, yes." I could feel my face burning as he stood there laughing.

"What exactly..."

"Go on, tell her. You couldn't possibly guess that."

"I can't... blue...silk..." I managed to choke out.

Her only reaction was a slight widening of the eyes. "Have a seat Your Majesty." She addressed the air in front of her.

"He's behind you."

"Tell her I'll stand, thank you. I'll accept no hospitality from a Tar Valon witch..."

"He doesn't like you folks very much."

"That's common knowledge. Tell me, if you would, why he is so eager to get back to the woman he poisoned."

Artur's head shot up. His eyes blazed. He took a step towards her. Instinctively, I tried to get between them, but he stepped right through me.

"Lying witch! I should have purged you all from the earth while I had the chance!"

The air in the room became deathly cold. A chill wind came from nowhere, dousing the lights as he continued to rage at the woman who stood unmoving.

"He didn't kill his wife," I said quietly. "And he doesn't appreciate the accusation."

She did not seem the least bit flustered. She simply walked around and re lit the lamps. "My apologies, Your Majesty." she murmured, looking around curiously.

He stopped, mid rant. The pain on his face was enough to break my heart. "I loved my wife. I still love her."

I told her that. He moved away from her, into the shadows, looking dejected.

"Do you believe me, now?"

"I believe that the Pattern seems to bend strangely around you. That you are from another world..."

"...or time. I thought that. Another time, maybe."

"Perhaps..."she seemed lost in thought for a long time. Artur stood in the corner, mumbling dejectedly about his wife, and bloody lying witches. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke again. "I will allow you limited access to the libraries, but in return, I may require some tasks of you."

"What sort of tasks?"

"We shall have to see what you are suited for."

"I don't do dishes, and I don't wash windows."

"You may go. I shall send someone to the gardens shortly to help you begin you search." I couldn't help it. As I walked back out into the hallway, I let out an elated whoop that echoed through the whole tower. Hey, we've got rednecks up north too, you'ns!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Inside the Tower**

"If you want him to make the first move, you have to let him know you are interested," Artur suggested as he leaned over the table next to me.

"What do I need to do, hit in the head with a brick?" I asked, flipping through pages of the book in front of me, looking for Artur's name.

"Flutter your lashes or something. Women are supposed to be experts at subtle signals."

"Subtle. Me. Two words not to be used in the same sentence." Two guesses who the object of this discussion was.

"OK, well, try this one. The next time your two are close, and he looks into your eyes. Close them about half way, and just sort of tilt your chin up a little,"

I started laughing as he did his kingly best to demonstrate the technique.

"I'm only trying to help."

Still laughing, "I know, it's just, I've never had to deal with men who were actually... I don't know... polite about these sorts of things."

"And what are you used to?"

"Nice shoes, wanna fuck?" I offered.

He shook his head in disgust.

"Besides I thought you didn't like Logain."

"He's harmless now, and a gentleman. He carries himself well, in spite of the situation. And you need a man."

"Do I now?"

"Yes. Without a doubt. When I do find a way to move beyond this world, I want to know you are taken care of. Perhaps if you could persuade him to leave this place, the two of you could go somewhere..."

"We've already talked about it. He's convinced he wouldn't make it out of the city without someone recognizing him. He doesn't want to 'put me in danger'."

"A valid concern. One which can be addressed."

"I'm working on it. Just call it Plan B1/2." I pointed to a paragraph at the top of the page in front of me. "This has you in it. That's a reference to the Aryth Ocean campaign, but what's this word here?"

And so our work continued.

The first thing I'd had to do was figure out how to read this Old Tongue. It was theoretically related to the language we were speaking, but since I was hearing English, that didn't help much. I tried reading the older language aloud, hoping that whatever magic was translating their words for me would work .

It didn't

So I tried writing it down. I could read their Common like English, but when I wrote in English, the Sisters who were willing to help me couldn't read it. I could copy their figures. There was no way around it. I had to learn the language. And I had to learn it from scratch because I had no way to relate it to the current vocabulary.

Writing proved to be interesting as I had never had to use quill and ink before.

I didn't want to waste more time than I had to, so I asked for some books on Hawkwing. Artur's problem suggested a starting point. With my own problem, I didn't have a clue where to begin.

I set myself up a little table in the corner of one of the libraries, and dug in.

One of the Brown sisters - I don't remember her name - took the time to give me a few introductory grammar lessons, but most of the time, Artur would stand over my shoulder, read a sentence and then tell me the translation. I'd copy it as well as I could, and deconstruct the grammar myself. It was slow going, but I'm good at this sort of thing.

As we read through the legends, Artur recalled more details of his life. Together, we slowly filled in the holes which I hoped would lead us to why he was stranded here instead of going... wherever dead people went to in this place.

Sometimes the dust and dark and lamplight would get to me and I'd take a book out to the gardens. Logain and I didn't get to spend a whole lot of time together, but we did meet for lunch every afternoon.

One afternoon as we were waiting for him to show up, I busy trying to recall what I knew from ghostly literature of my own plane of existence, trying to put it together with what we had learned of His Majesty's life.

"In the stories I've heard, Artur, there are a few standard reasons why people get stuck. Sometimes, if they die violently, they get confused. You were sick for a long time, so we can rule that one out."

He nodded.

"Sometimes they are attached to a person and a place for sentimental reasons. Or an object. Sometimes a sword or a piece of jewelry. A house."

He shook his head. "I won't say I didn't enjoy my wealth, but nothing like that could keep me here."

"OK, so that leaves us with two options. Either someone bound you here against your will, or there's something you still have to do that you haven't done yet. Any sort of binding would have to be a form of this Warder thing they do, which I can't get any of them to talk about."

"I've got a theory on that, if you'd care to hear it," Logain offered.

"Fire when ready.," I said, snuggling back against him.

"I think the Warder bond is a form of Compulsion."

Artur looked at him sharply. I whistled softly. "Don't let any of Them hear you suggest that." Compulsion, I had learned, was a particularly nasty use of the One Power which had been outlawed for over three thousand years. At lower "levels" it allowed a form of mind control. At higher intensity it was rumored to be able to remove whole episodes of a persons life, to be replaced by versions more to the channelers liking.

I was not supposed to know this.

However, in three months I had become a bit of a fixture at the Tower, and I could get access to nearly any book I wanted. I doubted anyone really knew how much command of the Old Tongue I had acquired in that time. Life had taught me that forbidden or taboo information could often be the most important information a civilization had to offer.

Besides, it was fascinating.

"So, you think Compulsion could hold after death."

"No. I don't. I think you need to look somewhere else for your answer."

"So what do you need to do?" It was a rhetorical question.

Logain answered. "Have you read the Karethon Cycle yet?"

"The what?"

"The Karethon Cycle. Prophecies of the Dragon."

"No. LTT died centuries before Artur was born. What could he possibly have to do with anything?"

"Everything is tied to the Turning of the Wheel. Lews Therin was a Dragon. The first. There will be another. I did not arbitrarily decide to throw my life away on a useless war. There have been...signs...which indicate the Dragon has already been reborn, that He is alive somewhere in the world. Everything in the Pattern is tied to Him."

"So you're saying that somewhere in these Prophecies, there might be something about Artur's little psychic velcro problem."

"I think so. Yes. What's velcro?"

"Never mind. It won't be invented for centuries. So, Karethon Cycle." I filed it away, and we slipped off to grab lunch.

It hadn't taken me long to figure out that I did not need to be here. Tension dripped from the walls in this place. No one seemed to trust anyone else. In a Tower full of women, though, what could you expect. 600 chicks running around, at least 20 were bound to be on the rag every day of the week.

I tried to stay in the library, or in the garden, and not speak to anyone I didn't have to. The more I found out about these women, the more I started to agree with Artur. No telling what they'd do to you if you really pissed them off. And I seem to have this talent for pissing people off.

I agreed to help them with copying work in exchange for staying in the Tower, which I still think was a mistake. The first night I stayed there, I started having dreams. Strange dreams, about an old crumbling castle that bleeds, and red stone gates. I'd close my eyes and open them in the middle of a chessboard, surrounded by talking animals.

Logain thought I should tell one of the sisters, but I didn't know who I could trust. They all seemed to have a secret agenda - even the ones I liked, and they had a way of twisting words which made you think they were not quite lying about the simplest things.

The longer we stayed at the Tower, the more paranoid Artur became. He tried to be patient, and help me with my translating, but I could tell it was unhinging him - and His Majesty wasn't all that stable to begin with.

Istarted working my way through the Karethon Cycle. Apparently the dead walking was supposed to be a sign of the end of the world approaching. But Artur was the only dead guy I'd met and he had been around for a while. It was worth a shot though.

I found the final piece of the puzzle completely by accident one day while flipping through a philosophy textbook that had seen better days. Or it found me. Hit me right between the eyes as I was standing on a chair trying to reach a magnifying glass. The chair slipped out from under me and I landed flat on my ass.

The book that hit me fell open on the floor, to a veyr prettily illuminated picture of a battle. At the front of the line, a man in gaudy armor raised a carved horn to his lips. I read aloud the first words on the page, "The Grave is no bar to my call.. "

"Are you all right?" Artur asked. He had been on the other side of the bookshelf when I took my tumble.

"Fine. What's this?" I asked him, holding up the book.

"Horn of Valere. According to pophecy, it must be found before the Final Battle. But they've been hunting for it for over a thousand years with no luck."

"Prophecy seems to be a real pain in the ass. What's it do?"

"Calls back dead heroes to fight for the one who sounds it," he said, sounding bored.

"Say that again."

"Calls back dead heroes..." He stopped.

"Like you?"

"No. That's not possible."

"Why not? Its worth a shot."

"Have you been listening to anything I've said. No one..."

"Pshaw! They weren't me. And you. We can find it. We find it. We find this Dragon fellow. We get him to blow the horn. You do what you gotta do and when its done, you can go back to your wife."

"You make it sound so simple."

"A walk in the park," I said, more emphatically than I meant to.

"None of that solves your problem."

"One thing at a time. We might find something on the way. Come on," I said, struggling to my feet, replacing the chair. I picked up the book I'd been reading, folded it irreverently and stuffed it in my pocket.

Artur raised an eyebrow.

"It's an old philosophy book. Really old. I found it stuffed way back in the corner under a pile of dust thicker than the book. No one will miss it."

He just smiled and shook his head.

I went back to my room and started packing. It took all of ten minutes since I hadn't acquired anything but that book since I got here. I tossed my cloak over one arm and went off to find Logain.

I found him in the gardens, under the willow. He'd been here long enough that they no longer felt a need to post guards - er, attendants.

"You're leaving."

"Yeah. I am. I've got a lead and I can't follow it here."

"I knew it wouldn't be much longer. Lead?"

"Artur and I are off to find the Horn of Valere."

"Which most likely does not exist and never did. I don't know whether to try to change your mind, or wish you luck."

"Wish me luck. And keep working on that escape plan we talked about. If things don't work out, I'll come back here and bust you out of this place. Ok?"

He nodded, a small smile playing across his lips. He glanced around to make sure no one was near enough to be paying attention to us. He reached under his cloak and handed me a small book.

It was a copy of the Cycle I didn't recognize. The symbol on the front of the book looked like a Yin Yang without the dots. I stuck it in my pack quickly.

I wanted to leave before anyone got suspicious, but I didn't want to leave him. He had been the closest thing to a friend - other than Artur - that I'd had in a long time. I put my arms around his neck and pressed my face against his chest, willing the tears to back off. He hugged me back.

I heard Artur behind me offering instructions. "Close your eyes and tip your head up. Now."

I raised my head, just a little, eyes half closed and he kissed me.

It wasn't a little peck on the lips, either. Not a friend type thing at all. One of those brain melting, god-don't-stop-or-I'll die sort of kisses where you forget that you have to breathe again eventually. When he let go of me and stepped away, I was panting.

Damn him. And damn Artur for being right.

He was smiling. "I will hold you to your word. Goodbye, Lyse."

"Never say goodbye. It suggests you won't be coming back."

"Then safe journey." He turned to the left and bowed to Artur. "Farewell, Your Majesty. May you find your wife well and waiting for you."

Artur, who was actually standing to the right and a bit behind me nodded approvingly and returned the bow. "I told you that boy was alright."

"Oh, you did, did you?"

We walked to the gate in silence. I was afraid if I said anything else, or if he touched me again, I wouldn't be able to make myself leave.

I paused to flash him a peace sign before walking out the gate. "Catch you on the flip side, Legs."

I made a good, brave show of it, ignoring the questions of the guard at the gate as I headed for the stable. Inside, my stomach wrapped itself up in knots.

Here we go again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Just When Life Can't Possibly Suck Any Worse...**

It starts raining.

That is my new theory on life. I didn't know how long we had been riding. I'd lost count days ago, but I figured - guessed... OK, desperately hoped we were riding somewhat in the general direction of Illian. Tear. Sounded like a depressing place. Ha. Ha.

Ha. Anyway, apparently, every few hundred years or so, some lordling or another decides to get a bunch of morons together and send them out after this legendary magic beer stein they call the Horn of Valere. Which meant I was competing with a few thousand other idiots to find this thing that didn't exist.

But this Hunt thing started in Illian, which was in Tear. And I didn't have a clue where Tear was. Or Illian. I'd copied a map in the Tower library, but their cartography apparently was not quite as advanced as one might hope for in this place, so the map proved to be a bit of a problem.

Currently, I was standing in front of a river which was not supposed to be there, arguing with Artur while the horse - whom I had named Pita (short for Pain-In-The-Ass) munched contentedly on grass. At least one of us was enjoying this.

"I thought they were supposed to be having a fucking drought!" I snapped as I tried to keep the - mostly useless - map from getting drenched.

"Let me see that," he growled, trying to duck around me to get to the map.

I turned it around so he could see it. He stared hard for a moment, then started laughing. "No wonder everything's out of place, girl! This is Pre-Breaking."

"It is not."

He laughed harder.

"It can't be! It's got the right city names. See!"

"Some Brown trying to figure out what went where, I'm sure."

I fumed at him, shouted a few choice curses I'm sure he had never heard, crumpled the damned useless thing up and tossed it into the river.

I snatched Pita's reins off the ground and stormed down the river, half dragging the startled horse. Bridges. Had these people never heard of bridges?

An hour later, the rain started to slow, and I figured I couldn't get any wetter than I was, so I went ahead and forded the bloody river. Good thing horses know how to swim.

About a mile from the other side of the river, we found a small town. Small, but large enough to have an inn, which was fine by me. I didn't care about a bed at that point, I just wanted somewhere to dry off and drink a beer. Or six.

I paid the guy at the stable to take care of Pita, who promptly bit him in the arm, and headed to the inn.

Already on this journey, I had considered several times the logistic difficulties of drinking myself to death. I could probably afford the alcohol, but the hangover I would suffer if I failed in the attempt was - so far - enough to make me think twice.

Artur complained bitterly about the bar girl. She must have been forty and had two teeth left in her mouth. I snarled at him to shut up under my breath, ordered my beer and retired to the corner by the fire. The other patrons were nice enough to clear out a spot. I think the constant muttering, added to my less-than-pristine appearance probably helped.

I closed my eyes and listened to the conversations drifting around the room, trying to ignore the smell of sweat and horse wafting off of me.

At the table closest to me, I could hear two men, whispering to each other in hushed tones. Over the din, I could just make out their words. I have pretty good ears, when I actually shut my mouth long enough to use them.

"There's trouble in Saldaea. As if Logain wasn't bad enough..."

Hmm. I didn't think he was so bad.

"Now this Taim has raised an army. They say he can call lightning from the sky, and turn rocks to flame. They say he is the Dragon Reborn."

"They say a lot of things. I'm more concerned about this business in Falme. The Whitecloaks have gone to war with these strangers from the sea. They call themselves the Seanchean. Ride on strange beasts and they have Aes Sedai at their command."

"Balls. Rumors that one. The White Tower bends to no one."

"They do I seen it myself. Women on leashes, Aes Sedai, like dogs. To fight for them. And the Whitecloaks to defend us. And if they win... what then? Bend the knee to them and their Questioners? I'd take my family and go, but there's trouble everywhere."

"The Prophecies say..."

"Hush man. They hear you talking like that, and you'll be strung up on the end of a hook quicker than..."

They stood up and moved away. Artur crossed the room and sat down beside me.

"That horse is a menace."

I smiled.

"She bit two stable boys and tried to kick a third before they got her stabled. Have you found out where we are yet."

"No," I said, softly, "I'm drying off and getting drunk before I try to talk to anyone."

He rolled his eyes. "Should be an interesting evening."

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

I looked up to find a tallish white haired man staring at me strangely. I smiled my most charming smile and shrugged. "Rough day."

He smiled back, nodding in understanding, and offered me a seat at his table. Significantly drier than I had been before, I accepted the offer and introduced myself. His name was Thom Merrilin and he was a gleeman. We traded drinks back and forth for a while. I figured he must have done a bit of traveling and asked him for directions.

I was unsurprised and disappointed to find that we were going in pretty much the wrong direction from where I wanted to be. He seemed sad, and a bit tense. Nervous, but he did a good job of hiding it. I decided against prying and for drinking more.

Eventually, I asked him if he knew any stories about Artur Hawkwing and was rewarded with an earful. All in all we passed an enjoyable night. I ended up passing out in the stable, which was fine because by that time, I didn't care where I slept. Besides, it was probably safer. Pita was better than a pit bull as far as security went. Horse'd probably kick a Trolloc's ass.

The next day, I headed out, in the right direction this time. I thought things were finally looking up.

I was wrong.

We made camp that night a little earlier than usual. It had taken me most of the day to work off the hangover, and I wanted a fire.

After week of eating cold bread and freezing my ass off, I had finally figured out the flint and steel thing. As nervous as those Aes Sedai chicks made me, it would have been convenient to have one around sometimes.

I don't know how long I had been asleep, but I woke up to Artur shouting about two inches away from my ear.

"LYSE! UP!" If I could find a way to kill a dead man... I dug around in my sleep fogged brain for a curse he hadn't heard yet and stopped suddenly.

The fire had gone out. Ashes lay smouldering, casting no light into the shadows. A chill ran down my spine.

Out in the darkness something was moving. Pita snorted and rolled his eyes back. I reached for the lead rope slowly, but I wasn't quick enough. A smell like rotten wet dog filled my nostrils, and something else. Something that had been dead for a very, very long time.

Pita reared suddenly, snatching the rope from my hand and I rolled back, away from the psychotic horse, not wanting to get my head kicked in. The minute all four feet hit the ground, the traitor took off in the direction of the town.

"Lyse, run. Now," Artur said, way too calmly. He was staring out into the darkness, focused on something I couldn't see.

I didn't wait for it to get any closer. I left my pack where it was and followed the stupid horse.

The next few minutes are a bit foggy. Mad dash, running for my life. Tree limb to the face and landing sprawled out on my back, I remember. Crawled a few feet and crouched behind a pile of dead brush, listening. I remembered reading somewhere that Trollocs could hunt lkike bloodhounds - could scent their prey.

If that's what they were, I was a sitting duck. I peered out from my hiding place, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The moon was about half full and bits of cool light trickled down through the trees. I could see two large shapes, ent low to the ground. Between them walked a scruffy looking man, who reminded me of this wino that used to panhandle on the strip near my uncle's house.

He kept laughing to himself, and mumbling. Some of it sounded like Old Tongue. Couldn't be sure. But they were close enough for me to reach out and touch his pant leg. They should be able to smell me by now unless...

Unless they weren't looking for me.

I wasn't going to take that chance. Having caught my wind, I waited for them to move a bit away and prepared to start running again. However, as I turned to take off, I slipped and fell, slid over an embankment and kept on sliding.

I'd been so busy looking behind me, I had completely forgotten to watch where I was putting my feet. I hit the bottom of the gully hard enough to knock the wind out of me and just lay there. This was it. I was dogfood. Even if they weren't looking for me, they probably wouldn't mind a midnight snack.

"Artur?" I gasped.

"I'm here."

"I just wanted to say it's been nice knowing you," I slid my little knife out of its sheath and struggled to my knees.

A minute passed. A long minutes. In fact its amazing how long a minute can actually be kneeling in the dark waiting for something to leap out of the shadows and tear your head off.

Another. I strained to listen, nothing.

OK. No Trollocs. No crazy wino. I leaned back against the edge of the embankment to breathe. I might actually survive this...

"Sir! I found one!" I heard a voice by my ear, and turned around, staring down the blade of a sword. At the other end of it was a really pissed off looking young man in a white dress.

Crap. Not these guys again.

"You're after the fuzzy things, right?"

He glared at me.

I struggled to my feet. "Look, I know this looks really bad, but I am most definitely not with them. They were trying to kill me. I think. I'm not really sure. Artur, do something."

He looked at me helplessly. "What am I supposed to do?"

The guy holding the sword looked to be sixteen, seventeen at the most. He had blood running down one side of his face, and was breathing almost as hard as I was. I reached a hand towards his face and he drew back, as though he'd been bitten by a snake. I raised my hands. "You have blood on your face." I told him flatly.

He reached up and wiped it off, still glaring.

Three more came trotting up. One, older than the other two, asked me "Do you walk in the Light?"

I nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah. I love to tan. Love the beach. In the Light. All the time. Except right at the moment because it's night, but I did have a fire. That's light, sort of, but it went out..." I stammered.

They did not look pleased with my answer. I tried again.

"I was running away. OK. I didn't want to get eaten."

"Understandable," the older gentleman... and I use the term very loosely... said, looking skeptical. "Are you alone?"

"Well, I had a horse."

"Where are you going?"

"Illian. In Tear."

"Alone? All the way to Tear?"

I could see where this conversation was headed. Straight downhill.

"Yes. I..." They were all staring at me. What was I supposed to do? I told the truth. "I have to find the Horn of Valere."

One actually laughed.

"You don't think I can?" I asked, my turn to glare now.

"Bring her. We will take her to the Captain. He will decide what to do with her."

"You could let me go."

"Be silent."

I was too tired to argue, and honestly, if the Big Fuzzies came back, I stood a better chance of surviving with these lunatics than I did alone. All I had to do was run faster than one of them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: No one Expects...**

OK, did I say lunatics? That doesn't even come close. Take David Koresh, Jim Jones, and Mr. Rogers, mix them together in a big cauldron, add a good dose of Cardinal Richlieu and the Spanish Inquisition and you might come close to the recipe for Southern Fried Whitecloak.

They hauled my ass back to their camp, trussed me up and tossed me in a corner for a while. I guess they were busy with the Trollocs, but it pissed me off. Then, just when I managed to drift off, some asshole woke me up by kicking me in the ribs.

"Up, Darkfriend!"

I groaned and tried to do what he wanted, but sitting up with ones hands and feet tied can be tricky. Not to mention the inconvenient boot in my side.

"I'm up, I'm up, alright..."

He reached down and cut the ropes on my feet then yanked me up by the arms. If you've ever had this done with your arms stretched behind your back, you know it hurts.

"Knock it off you sadistic bastard!" OK, so I wasn't being very pleasant, but this guy was quickly becoming a candidate for castration.

I got to my feet, but they were nothing but pins and needles and didn't want to work right. He ended up half dragging me across the camp while I kicked my feet around, trying to get them under me. I did manage to get in one good solid shot to a knee on the way though.

He brought me to a tent that was only a little bigger than the rest of them, nearly at the dead center of the camp. I was a bit surprised when he cut the ropes off my arms and left me sitting in a wooden chair. At this point, I was expecting the rack and thumbscrews at least.

Instead, I found myself staring down a man who should have been someone's grandfather. He was seated across from me, hands folded in his lap. I remember licking my finger and trying to scrub dirt off my face. Not that it helped.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Vodka? Tequila? How about a Four Horsemen on the rocks? "Um...water would be great. Sir."

He smiled and poured me a glass from a pitcher on the table. I tried to sip it, not so sure about the state of my stomach. It had been a stressful night and the last thing I needed to do was puke in this guys lap while he was being nice to me.

"Thanks."

He nodded. "Now, what is your name, child, and what are you doing wandering alone inthe wilderness in such dark times?"

"My name is Alicia, but my friends call me Lyse. And I wasn't really wandering. I was running for my life. As for why I'm out here in the first place..." I took a deep breath and just said it before I thought better of it... "I've got to find the Horn of Valere." I waited for him to laugh.

He didn't. His face scrunched up and his eyebrows came together until they almost touched, but he didn't laugh.

"I'm trying to get to Illian. In Tear."

"I know where Illian is."

"Great. You can give me directions from here then. I got sort of disoriented during the mad dash. Did you happen to find my horse?"

"I'm afraid I can't just let you wander off."

"Why not?"

"If you are a Darkfriend, which I am not entirely convinced you are not, then I would be remiss in setting you free. If you are not, I would undoubtedly be sending you to your death. Worse than Trollocs stalk the land these days."

This was not going well.

"What's a Darkfriend?"

He nearly fell out of his chair.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not from around here. Did I say something wrong?" I apologized quickly.

He started to ask, then sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. "A Darkfriend is one who has sworn their soul to the Shadow."

"Like a devil worshipper? Those wierdos that skin cats and kill babies and sacrifice virgins and shit? Nope. I can most definitely say I am not one of those. I used to go to church every Sunday with my Mom. I wasn't really that into it, but it could be fun."

I was suddenly having flashbacks to Sunday School. Hiding the preacher's Bible, putting frogs in the choir box, letting snakes loose in the... oh yeah, fun days.

"I think Mom had the hots for the preacher. I know she got pissed at me when I got caught making out with Bill Jr - that was Pastor Williams' son - in the graveyard. He was really hot. We were, like, sixteen..."

I suddenly realized I was rambling. He was listening intently, watching my face. Probably trying to figure out if I was lying, or just crazy.

"Have you, in your travels, met a couple from the Two Rivers?"

Two rivers? "Mississippi, Missouri? No, I haven't really met anyone. I did talk to a gleeman in the last town, but I sort of keep to myself."

He asked a few more similar questions before launching into a tirade about the history of the Children of the Light and their mission to save the world. I gave up on trying to follow the flurry of names and dates two minutes into the lecture. I gathered that they hunted down suspected Darkfriends. Darkfriends hid everywhere, in all walks of life. In shadows and in plain sight. As Darkfriends are good liars, claiming one is not a Darkfriend was apparently considered just as suspicious as admitting it would be.

Darkfriends were apparently responsible for everything from bad weather and crops failing, to unsolved murders, to making milk go sour too quickly. (Wow, I found myself thinking this begins to sound strangely familiar.) Only by giving ourselves over to the Light of the Creator could we - by which he meant me - be protected from the all pervasive influence of the Shadow.

I don't know how long we sat there. My feet itched, my shoulders hurt, and my eyes were slowly glazing over.

"Give me your boots."

What the fuck? Wondering if he had lost his mind, I handed them to him.

"You can read?" he asked.

I nodded.

He handed me a book. "You will have much time to yourself in the next few days. I suggest you use it to read this. You are dismissed. Send Child Byar in and wait outside. I must speak with him."

"Commander psycho-Sade? Sure thing... Sir," I said, stepping out of the tent. As I was standing outside, waiting for them, watching the sun rise slowly, I realized how smart this guy actually was. Without the boots, I could try to run, but I couldn't get very far. They'd catch me easy.

"Artur," I whispered.

"Here," a familiar voice answered.

"Thank god," I said, a bit too loud, and turned around. "These people are insane. I have got to get out of here."

He glanced down at my feet. "It won't be easy. The camp is under heavy guard. It seems we've walked into the middle of some trouble."

"And this surprises you?"

"On the up side, that beast you call a horse is here. Giving the Children enough problems that they'll probably cook it before the day is out, but it's here. And whatever battle the Children march to, it should keep most of their attention off of you for the time being."

"Great," I looked down at the book, making a sour face. I was guessing it was their version of the Bible. "Shit!"

"What?"

"I left the books in the saddlebags. I've got to get them back. At least the Cycle. I'll never find another copy of it!"

"The ugly one took your saddlebags from the campsite. I'll try to locate them."

"What should I do?"

"Keep your mouth shut. Stay alive," he answered, and disappeared into the tent beside the Captain's.

A moment later, the ugly one - Byar - I remembered - came out and ordered me to follow him. Having no other choice, I did as he said. He took me to a small tent a few doors down from the Cap's, shoved me inside, threw a blanket in after and told me to stay put. AT this point, I was a bit worried about going to sleep.

Every tiem I did that recently, the wake up call got worse and worse. But I was exhausted and eventually, that won out. I curled up under the thin blanket and fell asleep thinking about giving "Child Byar" a good swift kick in the nuts. At least if I dreamed about that, it would be a good one.


	10. Chapter 10

I woke up wondering where in the hell I was. The canvas tent trapped heat. Sweat had pooled beneath me, leaving the blankets soggy. Slowly it all came back to me, as I figured out that my ribs ached, my boots were still missing and I had to piss worse than I ever had before in my life.

Artur was nowhere to be seen so I picked myself up and stuck my head outside the tent. To my surprise there didn't seem to be a guard. Grateful, though somewhat curious, I slipped around the side of the tent looking for somewhere to take care of the current most pressing problem.

Unable to locate the privies, I finally decided to slip between two tents. Naturally when I was halfway through doing my business, all hell broke loose. Someone started shouting, screaming, really, and armored men came running out of tents all around me. I ignored them long enough to finish what I was doing.

They were a bit too occupied with their own problems to pay any aattention to me, but it was still pretty fucking embarrassing.

I could have gone back to my sauna of a tent, but I wasn't sure how to find it again, so I decided to go find out what all the excitement was about. You'd thin by now I would have learned to keep my nose out of other people's business.

I still couldn't find Artur. Normally, he wouldn't have strayed too far from me, over protective asshole that he was. It worried me.

I worked my way carefully around the edge of the camp, trying to avoid both the many rocks underfoot, and the soldiers running about. In the daylight, I could tell the camp lay at the edge of a large field. A small strip of trees lay between us and another large open area, and over the treeline, I could make out the walls of a city.

I cursed vehemently as I heard one of the soldiers give the name of the city.

Falme.

We were right the fuck back where we had started from and neither myself nor his Highness had realized where we were. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

I barely avoided colliding with three Whitecloaks who barreled around the corner of the tent in front of me. As I stepped backwards quickly, I misjudged the step and landed flat on my ass in the dirt.

I saw men on horses lining up behind the line of trees. Whitecloak soldiers on foot followed the horsemen as they charged into the field. Above, in the sky faintly reptilian shapes cast dark shadows on us as they flew over. I could barely see shapes moving atop the walls of the city, and troops flowing out the gate.

A heavy pit settled in my gut as I realized I was about to witness my first battle. I had seen the Seanchean soldiers on my last visit to Falme, and I knew the Whitecloaks were sorely outnumbered. I didn't really want to get caught up in the battle, but I didn't want to stay in the camp either.

I had to find my saddlebags and get out of here, ASAP, Artur or no Artur. I scrambled to my feet and hurried back towards the center of the camp. The smaller tents were abandoned, but they also seemed to be nothing but personal lodging for the soldiers. I dismissed these and started checking the larger tents.

Some god or another must have been watching over me, becaise I found them in the second tent I checked. I stuck my head in, saw them in the corner, along with two older gentlemen with red symbols on their cloaks. Instead of discuss the situation with them, I simply stepped between them, slung the bags over my shoulders, andran back out the tent.

I crossed the camp to the side where they didn't seem to be massing for battle and worked my way along the edge of the treeline, trying to keep a low profile. Here, there were fewer rocks, but plenty of roots, briars, and holes to make up for it. I kept up a low volume, steady stream of cursing as I tried to put some distance between myself and the armies.

Problem was the further I got from one, the closer I was to the other. Finally, I reached the edge of the treeline, and there I stopped, and stared.

Shock. Horror. Disgust. Stark Terror. I could use any number of words to describe that feeling and none would even come close. The two armies charged at each other. A sound like the rumbling of thunder, and I thought I could feel the earth trembling beneath my feet. The Seanchean had strange beasts with them, other than the flying things.

They also had several pairs of the leashed women.

As I watched, lightning split the air from a clear cloudless sky and touched down in the middle of the Whitecloaks, throwing horses and riders every which way. More lightning followed, and the ground bucked beneath their feet. I clamped my hands over my ears to block out the sounds of the screaming.

Suddenly, another noise broke through the noise of the battle. A single note rang out, a sound like I'd never heard before but could only have imagined. A horn.

It sent chills down my spine. Could it be The Horn? That would be way too big of a coincidence. Still...

A moment later my question was answered. I know that what I saw is impossible. I also know that I saw it. Between the two armies, horsemen suddenly appeared, armor gleaming in the sun, shouting battle cries. The swept out into the two armies, fanning out to cut a wide swathethrough them.

The grave is no bar to my call.

No weapon seemed to touch these phantom warriors. I wondered if Artur was among them, I wondered if he had heard the Horn. He must have heard it.

I watched the battle, now morphed into a three way clusterfuck, with morbid fascination. From where I stood, the men loooked like toy soldiers, like pictures on a movie screen, but the sound, and the smell...

Scorched flesh, the tingly coppery aftertaste from the lightning, and something else, something which should not have been here... the heavy overpowering scent of decay, clinging to the air - or in my head - I couldn't tell...

Suddenly, in the midst of the battle, I saw two figures appear in the sky above Falme. One was a tall figure, dressed in black, with eyes that blazed like fire. The other ared headed man, wielding a sword in one hand and lightning in the other.

I remembered Logain telling me of the Dragon. I remembered the first Prophecy. My hands clenched involuntarily around the leather of the saddlebags. As the two men fought, the smell of decay filled the air, filled my head. Behind my eyelids, I felt lightheaded,like the iside of my skull wasbuzzing. The pressure continued to build steadily as I watched them fight.

At some point, I reached into the saddlebags and snatched the two books up, and ran, like a madwoman straight for the battlefield.

I don't know what came over me. I wasn't going to fight. I think. I'm not really sure.It was foortunate, I suppose that I tripped over the first body I came too. Tripped and fell into a great pile of blood, and body parts. I raised my eyes to the sky just in time to see the Dragon Reborn strike down his fire eyed opponent.

The pressure in my head disappeared. The scent of decay lifted, to be replaced by the equally foul stench of the battlefield. Sweat, blood, and worse combined in a sickly cocktail. All around me, men were fleeing the field. Some fell to their knee, weeping, others simply collapsed where they stood. Some few threw their arms to the sky and cried out, but in joy or fear, I couldn't know.

As I struggled to my feet, a rider broke away from the pack at the center and bore down on me. I watched, transfixed, wondering what it would feel like to die. As the rider approached, I saw an armored hand outstretched, and reachedup instinctivelyto shield myself from the coming blow. I cried out in pain as the rider caught hold of my arm and dragged me roughly onto the horse in front of him.

"The battlefield is no place for a lady," my rescuer's familiar voice rumbled near my ear.

"Artur?"

"Aye. Hold tightly now, and lean forward. We are not out of danger yet."

No sooner had he said this than a Seanchean footsoldier lunged at him. Artur reached down and slashed with his sword, the smooth movement barely jarred me, but it took the Seanchean's head clean off his shoulders.

We stopped a bit outside the gates, and Artur helped me to dismount.

"How?" I asked him, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch him.

"Time is something we don't have now," he answered, wrenching his helmet from his head. "I have brought youto the Hornsounder. You should be safe with him."

"You're leaving aren't you?"

He smiled at me. "I fear I shall not be able to assist you in finding a way home."

"But we did it. We did. You get to go see your wife now."

His smile widened. He drew me against his armored chest wrapping me in an embrace that was less than comfortable considering he was wearing full plate mail. "Through a thousand lifetimes, I will remember you, and what you have done for me."

"No you won't."

"My soul will remember," he kissed me gently on the forehead before releasing me.

I think I could see the air around him shimmering. I held out my hand, fingers spread. He placed his mailed hand against mine, even as I could feel them growing insubstantial.

"Go on, now, idiot. Before you miss the train. Say Hi to you wife for me, 'kay?"

He threw back his head, laughing. The last thing I heard before he disappeared wasthat deep laughter.

I felt tears welling up as I turned to face the menbehind me. The one directly in front of me wastaller than I am, with dark hair and eyes. He was wearing a flat brimmed hat, and, as he happened to be holding a horn in his hand, I could only assume that he was the Hornsounder to which Artur had referred.

"That was...Artur Hawkwing," the dark haired man said.

I nodded, swallowing tthe tears,and glanced around me.Big mistake. As my shock numbed brain finally took in the scene, the pools of blood, the mangled bodies, the wonderful death cocktail of smells, and the piece of intestine clinging to my bare right foot, I fell to my knees and promptly threw up all over the Hornsounder's boots.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: On the Road Again

A/N I am trying to stick as close to the canon as possible with this story, but with such a large volume, some details may be off. Thanks to all who have reviewed.

All things considered, the Hornsounder, whose name turned out to be Mat, and I got along pretty well after our shaky introduction.

We found out we have quite a bit in common. We both like horses. We both like to drink, and we both hate Aes Sedai. Since he had seen and recognized who dumped me off with them, he was much more inclined to believe my story. Or maybe he just did a better job of pretending he believed it.

I spent three straight days telling that story to people I'd never met before, over and over again until questions started making me queasy. I also got to hear theirs which was, I think, almost as good.

In the process, I met lots of new and interesting people who decided I was either a liar, insane, or worse.

Take Moiraine, for instance. Or Moiraine and Lan, since you can't really discuss one without the other. Here is a prime example of why I hate Aes Sedai. She drilled me for hours about who I was, where I came from, what did I know about the Horn (some), about Rand (nothing), about the Dragon Reborn (quite a bit, thanks to Logain), about the White Tower (way too fucking much) then sniffed, told me I had a great imagination, and refused to speak to me again.

And her pet rock (that would be Lan) made damn sure I didn't get a word in edgewise, or a chance to ask any questions of my own.

Rude, over-bearing, stuck up ... anyway, you get the picture.

Then there's Egwene, who wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. She's not Aes Sedai, but she wants to be. Why, I have no clue. At first sight, she seemed alright. But she has this staring problem. She's always muttering to herself, or whispering to Rand. And when I asked her if they were together, she glared daggers at me, and told me to mind my own business.

I told her I don't like red heads and ran off to talk to Mat and Perrin. Perrin is one of Mat and Rand's friends. Mat told me they all grew up together. I picked up real quick that Perrin makes people nervous, although I didn't really understand why. I mean, I dated a guy once who wore snake eye contacts, so the yellow didn't phase me. His habit of sniffing people as a greeting though, that's a bit weird.

And then there's Rand himself. The big cheese. The Dragon Reborn. Or so everyone was saying. To me he looked like the proverbial red headed step child. Totally lost and out of his league and trying to act like it made sense. And he whined. A lot. More than I do, which is saying something. I mean, seriously, if this fellow is supposed to save the world, we're just screwed.

Putting this fellow in charge was akin to giving Jerry Lee the keys to the local pharmacy. And, if I was correct in my reasoning, he was slated to go completely mad before the end of this thing. I might have tried to get to know Rand a little better, but at the time, Moiraine their fangs at anyone who got close to him. It was easier - and safer - just to hang with Mat or stay out of sight.

Anyway, there were lots of others, but so far as I could tell, they weren't planning on preaching to me, torturing me to death, or serving me up for dinner, so they were much better than some I'd met lately.

After the first few weeks, everyone sort of forgot that I was there. I tagged along, helped out with chores, and tried to stay out of the way. When they settled in for the winter, I just stuck around and tried to make myself useful. No one complained.

Mat did try to teach me how to dice, but I wasn't very good at it. He ended up getting really sick. I gathered it had something to do with a magic knife, which didn't make a bit of sense. They had to take him back to Tar Valon. He was the only one I really got along with, so I was sorry to see him go. I talked one of the Sisters going with Mat into taking a letter to Logain. I figured they'd probably read it, so I made sure too include lots of embarrassing innuendo. Enough to make any Aes Sedai sick.

With Mat gone, I used my spare time to dive back into the Karethon Cycle with renewed vengeance. The Cycle itself was fairly short, just a few lines of poetry arranged in vague (mostly assumed) chronological order. The accompanying notes, however, proved tedious, especially now that Artur wasn't around to correct my horrible mistakes in translation.

I thought about asking Moiraine for help, for about three seconds. Other than her, I figured no one in the crew would know how to read, much less read the Old Tongue. So I struggled through it on my own until my head hurt, and in between passages, I fiddled around with E.T. s little workbook.

I've never been a big fan of philosophy, but the notes in the side bars made this one worth digging into. Whoever E.T. was, he had been a man of brilliant intellect, with a vicious sense of humor, and a biting wit which I envied. I don't think I could have survived that boring winter without him.

And so I read, Rand brooded, and Moiraine griped at him up until the night of the attack. I have no idea how much time passed. One day sort of melted into another until then. We'd had a series of messengers arriving, mostly for Moiraine who then relayed whatever she felt Rand should hear.

I suspect she held a lot back from him.

Anyway, the one that day this little slip of a girl dropped by, one of the Tuatha'an who could have been the love child of Jerry Lee and the gypsy chick from the old Lon Chaney Werewolf flicks. She was nice enough, but she didn't make it through the night.

Truth be told, I slept through the attack. I'd been up until past midnight trying to work out some passages about the "sword that is not a sword" and holding an imaginary talk back session with E.T. about all the lewd insinuations which could be drawn from that phrase.

I woke up to this god-awful howling which happened to be coming from Perrin. It took me a few minutes to put together that we had been under attack. Quite a few people were dead, along with a bunch of wolves, which upset me. I like animals more than people most of the time. I did think it was weird when Perrin insisted the wolves get a decent burial, though.

The next day, Rand ditched us. That's right. The fucking Dragon Reborn, the savior of the known world ran away like a little bitch. Left a note and everything. I walked up on a bunch of folks arguing about what to do. In the midst of all the bickering I did a really stupid thing.

Perrin asked Moiraine where Rand was going.

I, like dumbass, opened my big mouth and answered him.

"Tear."

As one, six heads swivelled around and six pairs of eyes glared at me.

I felt a need to elaborate. "He's going to Tear, to get the sword that 's not a sword. Which has got to be Callandor. At least... I... um..." I held up the somewhat travel battered manuscript. "I read about it."

Moiraine snatched the book from my hand. I tried to snatch it back, but the pet rock got between us.

"Where did you get this?" she demanded.

"It was a gift from a friend," I answered, trying to duck around Lan, and failing miserably.

"You can read this?"

"Sort of. A little bit. Get out of my way," I snapped, stamping on Lan's foot. It didn't work. He just stood there.

"What else do you know?"

I started to answer her, then stopped. I didn't owe this bitch anything. So I just smiled really sly like and said, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Not the brightest thing I've ever done. She shoved the pet rock out of the way, grabbed me by my shoulder and dragged me out of earshot of the others. The minute we were away from them, she started hurling questions at me. I was ready for it this time.

"Why should I do anything to help you? You don't do anything but bitch at Rand, and Mat and Perrin. You shove them around like their own feelings don't matter. You don't treat anyone with respect, but you expect everyone to treat you with respect. Well, sorry, Sister. You don't get anything from me that you're not willing to give in return."

"I have never treated you with disrespect."

"No? First time we met, you practically called me a liar to my face."

"You have told some incredible stories."

"You can wiggle your nose and shoot fireballs out of your ass. Why should anything I say surprise you?"

Too far. Definitely too far. Her mouth opened,. Then snapped shut. She took three or four long slow breaths before she spoke again. I was surprised to hear the anger disappear from her voice. "You have the Karethon Cycle. You have some idea what we are going up against. You know how important it is that we find him."

"You'll find him in Tear."

Our eyes met. I wondered if she was going to put the whammy on me. I didn't figure this one would be above using something like Compulsion if she felt the need. But she didn't.

"You said you needed to find a way to get home."

I nodded, surprised she had remembered.

"The Great Library in Tear is second only to that of the White Tower. Pack your things."

"What?"

"Pack your things. We are going to Tear. And you are coming with us."

I snatched the book out of her hand, and hurried back to my tent before she changed her mind.

That was it. Suddenly I had been noticed and in a big way. I should have argued, but I was worried about Rand too, and I needed to get to that library. Sitting on my ass in the snow wasn't getting me any closer to home.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Come on Baby, Light my Fire...

How the fuck do I get myself into situations like this?

I crouched behind a cluster of wooden barrels and clamped my hands over my ears as I was bathed in yet another shower of sparks from above. In front of me and a little to the left I could see the Stone. Which really isn't a stone at all, it's a tower with lots of guys in spiffy armor and big spears hanging around.

Currently, Rand and Moiraine were in the process of storming the keep, accompanied by an odd group of folks straight out of Lawrence of Arabia. How they'd gotten inside, I hadn't a clue, but the interesting light displays and various explosions coming from the upper windows convinced me that they had.

They'd left earlier that morning after fending off a half assed assassination attempt. I, on the other hand, was supposed to be safely back at the inn working out where these "Aiel" fit into the Cycle. At least that's what Moiraine had instructed me to do.

So naturally, here I was, risking my ass, yet again, for no good reason.

I was about to give up and find a good dark beer when a familiar and completely out of place smell reached me. Gunpowder? Here? I hit the deck as a huge explosion rocked the street.

Perhaps we could acquire some Napalm sometime in the immediate future?

Lifting my head and peering through the smoke, I saw a figure running into the huge hole in the side of the tower. Ah, well, time to figure out where he got it later. Never one to let common sense keep me from seizing the moment, I followed the mysterious figure into the Stone. Coughing and gagging, I followed the figure into the cloud of dust.

The hole must have been ten feet round. Think you may have overdone it a bit, buddy?

Inside, there were bodies everywhere. Blood and other less identifiable bodily fluids slicked the floors. Nothing like water skiing through a puddle of blood to make ones day complete. The beer was sounding better and better. I found a flight of stairs and headed up, fighting the temptation to count the bodies I passed.

Inside, the place was a maze of tunnels. Navigating the maze proved quite simple though. Anytime I heard the sound of fighting down one corridor, I simply took the other one. I was starting to get quite comfortable when I rounded a corner directly into the path of a group of pike wielding Defenders.

I looked down at the knife in my right hand and the book in my left, then up at the soldiers in front of me. In the face of certain death, I did what any sane person would do. I dropped to my knees, threw my arms across my head and shouted as loud as I could, "Bathroom! I was just looking for the bathroom!"

Before the one in front could figure out the proper response, his head exploded. Yes, I said his head exploded. Just thought it bore repeating.I had found Rand, Moiraine and their crowd of rabid Aiel. They were fighting for their lives (naturally) in the middle of the hallway, trying to manuever around a large floating crystal sword.

Now who leaves a crystal sword just floating around in the hall?

Must have been an Aes Sedai.

At the other end of the hallway, a white man faced off with Rand, running his mouth the entire time. It was good swordplay. Rand had certainly improved in the time I'd known him. However, even good swordplay gets repetetive after a while. Thrust, parry. Thrust again. And the conversation...

I watched them fight and talk, fight and talk, forwhat must have been a goodtwenty minutes.

"I thought only comic book villains monologued," I said, to no one in particular. "Shut up and fucking fight already."

I thinkthe other guy'seyes flicked over to me, just for a second. A good sized ball of flame leapt out of nowhere and came straight for my head. Luckily, at that exact moment, I hit a puddle of gray matter, both my feet slid out from under me, and Ilanded flat on my back onthe stone floor.

I had an eerie rush of deja vu as a bright flash of green light caught the errant monologuer in the chest. He disappeared.

As I sat up, somewhat scorched, but doing better than most of the people in the room, I had this crazy thought. I wondered if he was dead, or if he'd just been blinked off to Iowa or something to torment some poor farmer with his master plan.

As if almost being blown up, fried, and covered in someone else's brains wasn't enough, the day quickly went downhill. Seemed to be a two for one deal going on Forsaken that day. As soon as we got rid of one, this other fellow showed up.

I recognized him from the sky battle over Falme. He talked a lot, too. And there was something very familiar about the way he spoke. I almost felt like I knew what he was going to say before he said it. Anyway, Rand stomped his ass, but this guy was smart enough to know when to run. I missed the actual exit - I was too busy cowering in the corner at the time.

The Stone of Tear had become a very popular place that day. Mat, Egwene, Elayne, Nynaeve, and a few others somehow wandered into Tear at the same time we did, and a good thing too.

Rand took the fucking sword (you remember, the one that's not a sword) and totally freaked on us. Judging from his behavior, I surmised that the sword must have been dipped in some really potent LSD before being hung in the tower. Good trick, actually. Jerry Lee would have been impressed.

Anyway, if his friends hadn't been around to help us talk him down, I don't know what would have happened. I could have sworn I heard him talking to himself before I ducked out of the room, but I had just taken a good blow to the head.

Anyway, while The Dragon and Company took control of the city of Tear, I wandered off to find the library. And a bath. Not in that order.


	13. Chapter 13

A brief author's note: I've taken a lot of liberty with the time line and Finns because A. They confuse the daylights out of me and B. I don't actually own the book where this happens anymore. I loaned it to someone and they sort of up and disappeared. So anyway, I haven't read it in like two years, and if it isn't right, too bad, I'll fix it someday.

Thanks to everyone who has taken a moment to review. I love knowing somebody is reading this.

Chapter 13

I peered out the window of the room which had been mine since Rand had moved into the Stone. The sunset was beautiful, all reds and golds throwing pretty shadows across the streets below. But the smell from those streets never failed to remind me how far away from home I really was.

I left the window and trudged back over to my desk to add the final touches to the stack of notes scattered across it.

I'd lost track of how long we'd been here. There was so much to read and not enough hours in one day. Some of the manuscripts in the Great Library had been around so long that they started to crumble the minute you touched them. Everything was Old Tongue, most in obscure dialects that wracked my brain until it felt like I was bleeding out the nose.

I loved it.

While the Aes Sedai were scrabbling about like a bunch of starving hens laying claim to anything and everything that might hint at the Power, I was uncovering the lives and times of the Forsaken. And fascinating stuff it was.

Although I was finding it hard to believe that this group of dysfunctional wack jobs could have taken over a bar, much less a whole continent. I mean, put these folks together in the same room and you'd have a ready made Jerry Springer episode. A few of them.

Take Rahvin. As far as I could find, this guy had no skills to speak of. He wasn't a remarkable channeler. Of course, he'd have wiped the floor with anyone alive now, except maybe Rand. But the only thing he seemed to be good at was Compulsion. So while he could have been mind wiping governors and congressman, or whatever passed for them in the Age of Legends, he's out using his ultimate cosmic power to get laid. Typical male.

Or Lanfear. Mierin. Used to be Lew Therin's lover. He rolled her over for the girl he later married. So she sells her soul to the devil to get him back. And it never happened. Serious Fatal Attraction vibes here.

Add to this a guy with a serious short guy complex, an evil musician, my egomaniacal philosopher, a twisted schoolteacher, and the sadomasochistic nurse. Fabulous. Hell we got a whole season of Springer, and a few good B movies.

How did I put this together from a bit of old musty moth eaten bits of parchment? Very very carefully. Even at the tail end of the Age of Legends, people kept much better records than their modern counterparts. Most of the records were incomplete, but I found lots of old journal entries and even what could have been news clippings. There were references to other methods of record keeping and I itched to get my hands on some sort of computer run by the One Power.

There had to be one around somewhere.

Anyway, the details I couldn't find, I just sort of filled in myself. What came out was an intricate picture of some really screwed up individuals. Just not the sort you'd expect people to follow. Then again the same could be said of Charles Manson, Jim Jones, and Adolph Hitler. And if I wasn't right, well, they weren't really leaping out of the bushes to complain about it.

I finished penning in a neat translation of one of E.T.s last published works and added it to the pile. I figured Rand would be done with all his meetings with important people by now, and I might be able to catch him before he sequestered himself in his rooms for the night.

He was becoming increasingly anti social. I caught him just as he was walking into his rooms and he gave me an odd look, like he didn't really know who I was.

"Got some stuff for you," I said, holding up the bundle in my arms.

He shook his head, as if to clear it and held the door open.

"Put it on the table by the door and get out."

Well, that was blunt. Sort of rude actually. "Sure thing, Big D." I said, and dropped them a bit too hard on the corner of the desk.

He glanced up at me sharply.

"I'm not scared of you," I told him.

"You should be."

I snorted. "Save it for the Aes Sedai. This is everything I've been able to find on the Forsaken. I'm still going through a big stack of crap but I started with the older stuff first."

"I thought you were researching the Prophecies."

"Yeah, well, I figured you and your pet Aes Sedai were pretty much on top of that. Now that we know for a fact they're out and stirring up trouble, it might help to know what you're up against."

I met his eyes. He had this bad habit of trying to stare people down. It was a bit unnerving, knowing he could fry you to ash in between blinks if he wanted to. I slapped a big old grin on my face and tried not to blink.

He gave up the act and his shoulders slumped. He looked exhausted. "Thank you, Lyse. I'd still be interested in reading anything you find on the Prophecies."

"You know I'll bring you whatever I find," I said and headed for the door before we had to go through round two.

As I reached the stairs I passed Berelain.

"He's not really in the mood to be bothered," I warned her.

She just stared down her pretty nose at me. I kept waiting for her to sniff, but then I remembered she wasn't Aes Sedai. She was just a bitch.

She brushed past me without a reply.

I heard the door open and shut, and waited. The First Bitch of Mayene had been pushing several people's buttons lately. I was not disappointed.

A few minutes later, a bloodcurdling screech filled the hallway. I headed towards Rand's door. If anyone asked, I could always pretend to be rushing to her rescue...

I stopped a good yard short, suddenly unconcerned about what was going on inside the room.

The walls of the Stone were... wriggling. I backed up a few steps, trying not to touch anything. A tapestry across from me seemed to melt, flowing down the wall into a puddle and reforming itself in front of my eyes. Te air had taken on a sulfurous smell, thick and cloying like week old eggs.

I could hear swords clanging somewhere, but the sound seemed to echo around me. I couldn't tell which way was up and which was down. I reached out for the wallls and they oozed away as I touched them. I fell to the ground as the hall spun, and the back of my head slammed into the floor.

That at least, was still solid. Solid enough to hurt.

As quickly as it had begun, the sensation lifted. A chill wind came from nowhere, filling the hallway, and Berelain burst out of the door, bawling as she rushed past me. I saw Rand standing in the doorway, sword in his hand.

I rolled onto my stomach and tried to sit up, reaching a hand up to touch the back of my head. I winced at the pain and pulled it back down. Dark blood glistened in the torchlight. I struggled to my feet and staggered back down the hall toward s my room. He was saying something, calling to his Aiel guards, but I was too cusy trying not to pass out to understand any of it.

Once back inside my own little hole, I curled up on the bed and let the darkness swallow me.

Later I discovered my luck in surviving that night with only a mild concussion. Moiraine the all knowing called it a "Bubble of Evil" whatever the fuck that meant. Rand hadn't been the only one affected either. Mat and Perrin both got caught in whatever glitch had happened that night.

Some people had been killed. No one knew what had really happened or how to keep it from happening again. Rand sort of freaked out. He did that a lot. I had a feeling we'd be on the move again soon, so I started copying anything and everything that might be useful into travel sized form.

Some time after the "Night of the Bubble" (which has such a wonderful happy sound to it) I started having the dreams again. Dreams I hadn't had since I eft the White Tower. Dreams about being caught in a web I couldn't escape. The harder I thrashed and twisted, the more caught I became. A red tower, which bled from the top, and stones which were not stones. Hissing voices lost on the wind and images of home. Jerry Lee. My Mom.

I'd always wake up from them, in the darkest part of the night, drenched in sweat. I'd get up and wrap myself in a warm robe, which did nothing to keep the chill away, and wander the lower levels of the Stone. On one of these midnight runs, I found a locked door.

Most of the doors in the Stone loscked with a skeleton key, which I had a copy of. This one door, I'd never seen before. It was deep in the lower levels, tucked away from any of the main corridors. A thick, heavy wooden door with no visibele markings and a single keyhole which my key didn't fit.

I left it alone and went back to my study. But the next night, the same thing happened, and I found myself standing in front of the door again. And again. I thought about asking someone about the door, but I knew they'd either warn me away or ignore me. After about a week, I decided to open it if I could. I brought a long thin piece of wire with me into the dark.

It took a little under half an hour for me to jimmy the lock open. It wouldn't have taken that long, but I couldn't figure out how to keep the wire from bending. The hinges didn't squeal when I pushed the big door open which probably meant someone else had been in here lately. There were unlit torches in the sconces on the wall. I used my oil lamp to light them and then set it on the floor.

I caught my breath as the last image from my dream... the one I could never quite remember... rose in front of me. A red stone gate. I don't know how I knew it was a gate. It could have been anything else, but it wasn't.

Anything could lie through that gate. Great horrible things with fur and teeth ready to peel mys kin off and throw me into the fiery depths of hell. Or one of the Forsaken. Or something worse. Or...

Home.

The thought pounded into my head. I walked towards it, reaching out to caress the red stone. It was warm. Far warmer than the air and unnaturally smooth to the touch.I womndered if it needed the One Power to work, but I didn't think so. I started to turn back, the common sense coward side taking over for a moment.

The moment passed. I closed my eyes and plunged through the archway.

For a moment, I thought nothing had happened. No blaze of light, no roaring wind, nothing. Then I opened my eyes. I was no longer in the chamber. I wasn't home either. I seemed to be standing somewhere between day and night, surrounded by a thick mist. It swirled around my legs, leaving goosebumps where it touched my body.

Somewhere beyond the mist I could hear voices, soft sibilant, inhuman voices whispering my name. Abandoning all sane thought, I headed into the mist, trying unsuccessfully to brush it away from my face. I followied the voices deep into the mist which grew ever thicker until it suddenly fell away and I found myself standing at the edge of a sheer dropoff.

My stomach lurched as I peered over the cliff edge into nothingness. Across a gap from me rose a tower. A tower which may have been white stone once. Now it was stained black with blood. Blood which welled out from the top of it, spilligng down the sides.

The tower had no windows and no visible way to get across the gap to it. I stood there at the edge of the precipice, wondering if I was dreaming, feeling like a fool. Terror warred with curiosity, but I knew there was no turning back. I called out across the void, putting all the authority I could into my voice.

"Hey out there! Anybody home?"

The echo of my own voice answered me.

I tried again. "Helloooooooooo!"

One more time. "All right Asshole. I want some answers so get your ass down here, or I'm coming over."

I heard a soft hiss from over my left shoulder., Third times the charm I thought, spinning around. A shadowy figure stood cloaked in mist, laughing at me. Bastard.

"Have you come to us in faith of the covenant?"

"What the fuck does that mean? I came here because you won't get out of my head. My dreams..."

It stepped closer, it's hood falling away. Slitted eyes stared back at me, it smelled... cold. It seemed to be smelling me, looking for something. After a moment, it stepped away and bowed.

"We shall bargain. What do you wish to know?"

I started to ask it about home, then stopped. I'd seen this movie before. If I said the wrong thing, I'd be totally screwed. What do I wish to know?

"Can you show me how to get home?"

"Horizon walker. Shadow maker and shadow breaker, Yessss. Home."

"Ohhh-Kay."

It held up two slender fingers. That was clear enough. One down, two to go. This was really fucking weird. I thought about my life, about my little crap job and my little crap apartment in a nice safe house in the suburbs where the most dangerous thing you might run across was a lost crackhead looking for the fastest way back to the Alley.

I thought about Sharon and Tinea and the fellow's down at the Watering Hole with their fancy cars and their fake smiles. I thought about Jerry Lee, about the Trollocs spilling into the desert, and the blood. I thought about a whole army of them being released on the world, this world, my world, was there any difference?

"What's going to happen if I stay?"

It flicked it's tongue out and touched my cheek and a wave of images washed over me, images of war, of fields torn by fire and ice, lightning from nowhere. Bodies strewn across once green fields, children dying in the streets, and above it all the Dragon banner. Rand's banner. I saw myself, pale and lost, walking among the dying, kneeling in pools of blood.

I saw fire rising across the sea, a great red gold column of it and an army of ships, flames exploding on their decks as ravens circled above. A Black Tower rising to shadow the White, blocking it from view. A great army numbering in the thousands marched to meet another, just as great, and they swarmed across the land, devouring it like ants, leaving destruction as they passed.

I can't do anything about this, I wanted to scream.

I saw other things too, though. I saw myself sitting by a fire, surrounded by a circle of children, smiling and talking. I saw myself laughing with a baby in my arms. I saw myself kneeling over a pile of stones, weeping. I saw someone, a man whose face I couldn't see, holding me closer than anyone had ever held me. I heard his voice, like silk or honey. I could smell him, like he was standing next to me.

The voices seemed to dance around me, growing louder, until words formed in the mess.

"Three souls bound by the Wheel

Three souls bound to the Walker

One lost Wanderer raised to the Light

One Fallen to Shadow to twist the knife

One Raised by the Shadow to open the wound

By the Walker bound, to Rise once more

or fall forever."

I repeated the poem to myself. It didn't even rhyme. Not really. Three souls. Three people whose fate depended on me. On my choice. Who? Did I care? To go home... I groaned aloud. This was not my problem. These people, this fucking war. I couldn't do anything to help.

One finger. I've got a finger for yo9u, asshole. One question left.

"Is this what will happen or what might happen?"

"The Wheel weaves, but the future is never certain."

Great. "You're as useful as a fucking fortune cookie."

"We have answered. The bargain has been struck; the price must be met."

"Price? We didn't discuss any..."

He reached up and grabbed the back of my head, leaning in so close for a moment I thought he...it... was going to kiss me. Then a slamming pain filled my head, pulling it apart. The world seemed to shatter into a thousand bits of scattered light, and all I could feel was pain.

I woke face down on the stone floor of the chamber. I don't know what they took from me, and I guess I never will, but apparently it was enough. I staggered back to my room to write down everything I could remember about the experience.

Once I did, I lay down and slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

The story is going to get darker as it goes along, but I hope to keep the comedy available. Thanks again to those of you who review. I'll try to update more often, but I'm into the final editing stage of my first full length original novel and its been taking up most of my time.

Chapter 14

I woke up in my own room, with a dull thudding at the back of my head. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and everything tasted like I'd been licking used kitty litter. I tried to turn my head and groaned as bright sparks danced and the ache burst into an explosion of pain.

As my vision cleared, I saw Moiraine sitting in a chair across the room, staring at a sheaf of papers in her hand.

As I tried to sit up, she said, "You went through the arch."

I grunted a reply, unable to force anything more coherent through my swollen lips.

"That was very foolish. Even the most learned among the Aes Sedai do not willingly deal with those beyond the arch."

"I'm not Aes Sedai. Where's your pet rock? Maybe you could take advantage of my weakened state to have him beat some sense into me."

"I doubt any amount of beating could bestow that gift. It will take more than pain to temper the raw iron of your soul."

"Enough bloody riddles!" I snarled, finally finding my voice.

"You will tell me everything, from the moment you entered the chamber."

"Burn in hell," I said, and collapsed back on the bed, squeezing my eyes shut. I could see it - the bloody tower - and the thing. I could hear it. Home. I could have gone home, I...

A sob welled up, I choked it back, but not before she heard it.

"Very well," she rose, tucking the papers under her arm as she headed for the door. "Prepare yourself. We leave Tear at dawn."

"Where..."

"Rhuidean, of course."

Of course.

I spent a few minutes cursing Aes Sedai in general, and Moiraine in specific before beginning the arduous task of sorting through my piles of notes. A bit before dawn, I crawled into bed to catch what sleep I could.

I woke to someone pounding on the inside of my head. At least that's what it felt like, I think they were actually pounding on the door. The sun had just began creeping over the horizon and before it had fully risen, we were heading out of Tear towards the Aiel Waste.

There's a reason they call it "The Waste".

There is nothing there. I've lived in Arizona for years, and next to this place, I could have been living in the Amazon.

Traveling with us, we had a few peddlers, the Aiel who had taken up with Rand, and a good few camp followers tagging along for scraps. If they'd read half of what I'd read, they'd be running in the opposite direction - as far from the bloody Dragon Reborn as they could get.

Rand and his friends, naturally rode horses. I got to walk. Have you ever walked behind a wagon for a few miles? Wagons kick up huge clouds of dust, so you have a choice between staying in some kind of shade, or being able to breathe. I opted for breathing and trailed at the outer edge of our little caravan trying not to think about shadowy faces or bleeding towers.

I wondered how Logain was doing, if he was even still alive. I thought about Artur and hoped he was happy and with his wife wherever he was. Thinking about the two of them made me smile in spite of the heat and the dust and my aching feet.

The wind shifted a bit, and I adjusted the pack to my other shoulder, getting closer to the last wagon. Might as well use it for shade while I could. It was one of the peddlers' wagons. In the few weeks we'd been traveling, I'd really come to dislike the man and his fat wife. Or girlfriend. Whatever she was.

They reminded me of the snake oil salesmen in the old westerns. Always trying to pull one over on you, and you both know it, but there's not much you can really do about it. I always told them I was broke when they started in on me. That usually shut them up.

But they had someone else with them. He was a gleeman, and surprisingly quiet for being one. He kept to himself most of the time, unlike the rest of the idiots traveling with us. They were falling over themselves to crawl up Rand's ass. Highly annoying. It's a good thing I didn't have any ability with the Power or I would have found a reason to fry a few of them.

At the moment, the gleeman lounged on the back of the wagon I was walking next to, apparently oblivious to the rough road. He wore far too much clothing for the weather, but it didn't seem to bother him. Unlike the other gleeman I'd met, he wasn't wearing one of those horrid patchwork cloaks. Instead, his outfit was all finely tailored lines of dark silk with lace at the cuffs. Men wearing lace still took some getting used to, but it seemed to be all the rage in Tear. He would have fit in with any of Rand's new noble 'friends'.

I hadn't actually found time to speak to him yet. Anytime I tried, my tongue got stuck to the roof of my mouth, or someone got in the way. At the moment, he had a bottle in his hand, and as I inched closer to the wagon, I could hear him humming a song I didn't recognize. His eyes seemed to watch something in the distance.

He caught me watching him and smiled.

I took a deep breath and tried to think nonchalant. "Looks like you're smarter than the rest of us," I said, my voice coming out in a squeak. "Shade and a ride."

"If you'd care to join me, there's plenty of room," he said, indicating the spot next to him.

I glanced towards the front of the wagon. I guess I must have looked nervous.

"Don't worry about them," he held out his hand and I took it, climbing up into the wagon, and setting my bag down beside me.

"I'm Lyse. Alicia, really, but Lyse to my friends," I said and stuck out my hand.

"My name is Jasin Natael." He raised my hand to his lips and brushed them gently across the backs of the knuckles. I felt a thrill like electricity shoot through me. I tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Sexual frustration is a bitch.

"It is an honor to meet any friend of the Lord Dragon."

I laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call us friends. Rand doesn't think he needs friends any more."

"Yet I have seen you among his retinue, and you know him well enough to use his name. I have seen you speaking to him on several occasions."

"I sorta work for him. Sort of."

"May I ask what sort of work?"

"Translation. Now that he thinks he's this Dragon character, he's trying to figure out what to do about it."

"Is he truly the Dragon Reborn?"

"Yeah. I guess. He's got to be, if you go by the whole prophecy thing. All the pieces fit. It's Occam's razor."

"What?"

"Occam's razor. Basically, when several possible explanations present themselves, the simplest explanation is usually the truth. It would involve too many coincidences and outside manipulation for Rand not to be the Dragon. So he's the Dragon."

"I see." I realized he was still holding my hand. He had strong hands. Long fingers, pale skin. I noticed a small scar on one of the knuckles. He turned my hand over and ran one calloused finger down the wrist, tracing the vein. His touch raised goosepimples on the backs of both of my arms. I kept my eyes on the ground and tried to remember what I had been saying.

I gently removed my hand from his and continued, "Personally, I don't believe in prophecy. I think it's all a load of crap. It just gives the Aes Sedai a reason to lead him around by the nose. Anyway, I've got three copies of the Prophecies of the Dragon and they're all different. Those differences are what's going to be important. I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

"I did ask. Go on," he took a sip from the bottle in his hand before offering it to me.

I took it from him and sniffed. Wine. Pretty good wine too. I took a sip. Red. Thank God. "Thanks. What was I saying?"

"Something about the Prohecies."

"Yeah, well, Rand's got the Prophecies too, though, and he's got his own ideas on what they mean. So we argue a lot."

"You live dangerously."

I snorted and took another swig of the wine. "He's not so scary when you get know him. Most of the time he doesn't even remember I'm here."

"You said that already."

"Yeah, well, it really bothers me. I gave up a lot to help his stupid ungrateful ass. He doesn't know anything about what he's getting into."

"And you do." I couldn't tell if he was genuinely interested or just humoring me, but I'd been at boiling point for weeks. I needed to tell someone about my work. The words spilled out of me before I could stop them.

"I know more than he does. Probably more than his pet Aes Sedai too, but it's hard to tell with them. See, what I'm trying to do is put together profiles on these Forsaken. The way I see it, if you're going to fight someone and win, you've got to know as much as you can about them. The way they think, the way they see the world, their patterns of behavior. Not just boogie stories to scare children."

"The Forsaken are trapped beneath Shayol Ghul."

"No. They're not. And I think more people need to know that. It's a major point of disagreement between me and Rand's Aes Sedai. He's already killed three. Aginor, Balthamel, and now, in Tear, Belal, who was masquerading as High Lord Samon. By the way, if anyone asks, I didn't tell you any of this."

"Of course," he leaned in close, until our faces nearly touched.

"He's fought at least one more. At Falme first, and the Tear. Everyone thinks that he fought the Dark One at Falme. That's bullshit. If the big DO was already out, the world would be in a lot bigger trouble than it is. He's still trapped. I think that the freak with the flaming eyes was Ishmael."

"Interesting theory."

"The pieces fit. Ego maniac, master of manipulation, he's way smarter than you or me, or Rand and he knows it. He's going to live forever, so he's not worried about us. I know more about him than the rest of them, thanks to this." I pulled the workbook from her pocket. "Here," she handed it to him. "Take a look."

He took the book from me and flipped it open, staring at it intently for a moment. His eyes widened a bit, and I thought I could see his lips moving. When he looked back at me, he had a strange expressioon on his face. "You can read this?"

"Yeah. Languages are my thing. This is a textbook, from some kind of philosophy class. It's old. Really old. I found it in the basement of the White Tower. See the signatures on the notes. E. T. The White Tower's got basic information on all the Forsaken including their names before they were "reborn". E. T. is Elan Tedronai. The third name he picked up later as sort of an honorific. Elan Morin Tedronai. He disappeared right before a big explosion at the major university at the time. The same explosion that let the DO back into the world. He resurfaced later as Ishmael."

"The Destroyer of Hope."

"Right. He would appreciate the melodrama, I think. So E.T. is Ishamael. Even in school this guy was full of himself. He's got a great sense of humor though. Total asshole. I think we would have made good drinking buddies, assuming he didn't get offended at my ignorance and fry me. But along with all the brains and talent comes the important stuff. Weaknesses. He's really over confident in his own abilities and probably has a tendency to underestimate his opponents. He's heavy handed with his use of the Power. He doesn't respect the dangers of using it. If Rand would listen to me, he could use this to his advantage."

"And you figured all this out from bits and scraps."

"Bits and scraps, and some common sense. I fill in a lot of the holes myself. These guys are fascinating. Totally fucked in the head, but fascinating. I think that's why I understand them as well as I do. I've known a lot of wingnuts in my day."

"I'm sorry?"

"Wingnuts. Fruit loops. Crazy folk."

"Ah."

"Although I'm sure there's plenty of people who think I'm a few fries short of a Happy Meal. It's all in the perspective."

"I don't think you're crazy. A bit odd perhaps, but not crazy."

"You don't know me." I dropped my eyes, realizing how my tirade must sound to him.

"I should very much like to know you better," he said. I raised my eyes to meet his. They were as dark as his hair, but with lighter bits of color around the iris. They seemed to stare right into my soul. I caught my breath at the promises in those eyes. His smile widened a bit. I could smell him, sweat and salt and a hint of some spice I couldn't name.

"Alicia," a harsh voice intruded on our moment. My head snapped around, and I knew I was blushing furiously, although I didn't know why.

I saw one of the Aiel standing there, a scowl on his face. I searched my memory for his name and came up blank.

"Al thor wants you. Now."

"Tell him to go fuck himself," I snapped, and was rewarded with a sharp bark of laughter from the man next to me.

"You will come with me."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming," I grumbled, hopping down off the wagon, which was slowing down. I grabbed my pack. "See you 'round, Jasin." Muttering unpleasant things under my breath, I followed my escort towards the front of the caravan. Apparently we were stopping for the night.


	15. Chapter 15

Language warnings for this chapter. If you're easily offended brace yourself.

Chapter 15

"YEEEE -FUCKIN-HAAAAW!"

I let out a rebel yell the whole camp couldn't help but hear right before my foot hit a patch of something not quite solid, and the world tilted.

"Wow. The stars are beautiful way out here." I said to no one in particular as I landed on my back in the dirt for the umpteenth time that evening. "Who would have thought they'd have tequila in this hell hole?"

It had started shortly after we made camp that night.

Rand had hauled me in for yet another of our "consulting sessions" which consisted of him and Moiraine informing me of some new interpretation they'd come up with that had to do with Rhuidean, and me informing them that they were both morons.

The disagreement rapidly degenerated into a shouting match, and I stalked off across the camp with no particular idea where I was going. On the way I ran into two Aiel who were passing an interesting looking bag between them. When I asked them what they were drinking, they sort of chuckled and handed it to me.

I'll be damned if it wasn't tequila. Or something close. No mistaking that pungent eau de rotten cactus. Not Cuervo Gold, for sure, but mighty close. Close enough for me. Anyway, that was about, oh, seven hours earlier.

At the moment, I was staggering drunk, had succeeded in drinking one of my escorts into a stupor, lost the other one somewhere on the other side of the camp and had no clue where I was. Except that the ground was beneath me and I was supposed to be standing up.

Taking a few deep breaths, I grabbed hold of the dirt and attempted to correct the situation, hauled myself upright, only to pitch forward face down.

"Lady Alicia?" a voice I knew I should recognize sounded from above me.

"Hrummphgrrra," I responded, raising my head to see a pair of boots. Nice black boots with the tops turned down. I spat pebbles and dust out of my mouth and pulled myself to my knees and stopped. The legs that went with those boots were really quite nice.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and between the two of us, we managed to get the ground back where it belonged.

It was the gleeman. "Oh, hulloo,..." I grasped about desperately for his name, "Jasin!" I slurred triumphantly, swaying a bit.

He wrinkled his nose as he looked at me.

"You've been drinking more than wine tonight milady."

"Oosquai," I said brightly, holding up what was left of the skin from earlier. "We calls it tequila where I come from. To-kill-ya. And I am not a lady. I've met some ladies and I don't like 'em."

"Be that as it may, it isn't safe to be wandering alone, even inside the camp."

"I have a mother, thank you very much, and I wasn't alone. I lost my Aiel a few hours ago. I got the booze though."

"Obviously. Perhaps you'd care to sit for a while?"

"I'm fine. I've gotta get back to my tent," I said and took a step. The damn ground started sliding around again, and I started to go down. He caught my arm. "Sit. Yeah, sounds good. Want to help me finish this?"

"I would think you've had quite enough."

"Absolutely not. One does not stop drinking oosquai until the skin is empty. That's what... whatsish name told me earlier. Can't tell the damn Aiel apart. They all look the same. Big. Mean. Spears. Grrr."

He half carried me towards a fire I hadn't noticed before, just outside the main circle of wagons. I could see the fat chick and Kadere deep in conversation with this skinny dark haired woman.

The fat woman glanced up from her conversation when we came into the light. "What have you found wandering about this evening, Natael?"

"Our Lord Dragon has lost something, it seems," he returned, his tone light, but guarded. Even in my intoxicated state, I could tell they didn't care for each other.

"He didn't lose me," I protested. "I lost myself. That cocksucker can go jump down the Pit of Doom head first for all I care!"

"Such language, my dear, have we been drinking a bit tonight?" the fat woman came over to me. A chill ran through me as she looked at me. It was like a wolf might look at an injured baby deer.

"A bit. Look, I don't want to be any trouble. Just point me in the direction of the Lord Asshole's tent and give me a push. I'll find my way from there."

"What are you going to do, roll back?" the peddler's voice came accompanied by harsh laughter. "Pull up a patch of dirt and stay a while. We can always use more pretty women around here."

"I don't want to be any trouble," I repeated.

"You're no trouble," I heard Jasin's voice in my ear, and felt a reassuring squeeze on my arm, which he still held to steady me.

The skinny woman glared at me as I settled by the fire. I wasn't drunk enough not to notice that look. Apparently she didn't like competition. Fuck her. Up the ass with a chainsaw. I passed the skin off to Kadere, and it didn't make it back around the circle, but I didn't care.

Jasin sat beside me, resting one hand on my knee. "Care to tell me what's got you so upset?"

"I'm not upset..." I began, stopped, and began again, "I don't want to talk about it. He asks questions, I answer them, he tells me I don't know what I'm talking about. Why even ask in the first place? I don't want to talk about it."

"Then we will talk about something else," he said. "How did you come to be here?"

"Uhhh... I was staggering around looking for my tent. I fell down. You picked me up. I think."

"I meant how did you come to be traveling with the Lord Dragon. You don't sound like a native of Tear."

"Oh. Long story, which you probably won't believe anyway."

"Try me."

Name the time and place, I started to say, but I caught myself just in time.

I asked for a drink of water, and after a few false starts, I found myself spilling the whole story to him. He had this weird way of drawing the words out. Every time I hesitated, he knew exactly what to say to keep me talking. The others gradually drifted away until it was only the two of us, the dying fire and the stars.

"...and she wanted me to tell her what happened inside the gate, but I didn't. I don't trust Aes Sedai."

"Nor do I."

"Told you you wouldn't believe me."

"It is an incredible story. I would have liked to meet Hawkwing. He sounds interesting."

"Interesting. Yeah, that's a nice way to put it. He did help me out though. I miss him. You really do believe me?"

"I see no reason for you to lie. Truth is mainly a matter of perception anyway. It will make a good fireside tale someday."

"Sure," I said laughing, "You can write it into a ballad. It's late. I should go back to my own camp," I said. but I didn't try to get up. He felt so warm against my back, with his arms around me.

"Hmmm, yes. You should," he agreed, pulling me closer. I let my head fall back against his shoulder. He wrapped his cloak around us both.

I passed out cold about three minutes later...

...and woke to bright light battering at my eyelids and the most glorious smell in the world. The aroma of aromas, the nectar of the drunken gods, the ambrosia of the modern world. I ignored the pounding in my head and slowly opened my eyes. I sniffed again, wondering if I had fully taken leave of my senses. Could it be? No, it really was...

"Coffee!"

I sat straight up and looked around, trying to remember where I was and how I had gotten there. My mouth tasted absolutely foul, and my head felt like a midget was crouched inside my skull beating at it with a little teeny sledgehammer. I laid my head back down on the chest I'd been using as a pillow and...

My head snapped back up. "Jasin? We didn't..."

"No. We did not."

"Thank God."

"I feel like I've been insulted."

"It's not you. I have this rule about drunk sex. It's no fun when you can't remember it." From the look on his face, he was having trouble thinking of an appropriate response to that statement. I decided to change the subject. "Is that coffee I smell?"

"I believe the Seanchean call it kaf."

"Trading with the enemy now, I see. I think I'll tell Rand. Then he'll have to confiscate that as contraband."

"How about I bring you a cup instead and call it a pay off for your silence."

"Deal. Got any sugar?"

"Sorry. No. I could ask Kadere."

Across the fire, I could see Kadere and the skinny woman sorting through a trunk of random stuff.

"Don't worry about it."

As I sipped my coffee, the details of the evening slowly came back to me. I was pleased to find that the only item of clothing missing was my boots. This would be a personal record for me. Usually tequila involves me losing at least half my wardrobe.

I had a few unexplained bruises and my knees were scratched all to hell, but all my limbs were still in place. All in all a very good score.

After breakfast, Jasin walked me back to Rand's tent at the center of the camp. On the way, we ran into Mat. I introduced him to my new friend and left the two of them talking while I went searching for my boots.


	16. Chapter 16

I am having a slow time with this part of the story. Things are taking a bit more serious turn now and I don't want to lose the spirit. There may be some rough sections as I try to figure out where to take it. Thanks for your patience and I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am.

Chapter 16

Rand was furious with me for disappearing and he made certain his entire entourage knew. I didn't get within ten feet of him before he lit into me. Luckily there were only a few Aiel and Rand's obligatory pet Aes Sedai around to watch this exchange. The rest of his flunkies must have been on a lunch break.

"Where were you?"

"Around."

"Answer me. Where were you?"

"At the other end of the camp. At Kadere's wagons."

"Alone?"

"There were other people."

"You are not to be wandering around alone! I need to know where you are at all times, there is too much at stake..."

"Why, Rand, I didn't know you cared," I said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Of course I care. I wouldn't have brought you along if I didn't need your skills."

"I see. So the only reason you give a shit..."

"You cannot speak to me like this I'm the..."

"Fucking Dragon Reborn, yeah I know. We all fucking know! You're still an asshole. You know what, you can do your own damn translating from now on. Or get one of your Aes Sedai to do it. Just don't be surprised when she comes back asking for your first born son or something."

"Don't you turn your back on me!"

"Fuck off."

He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. The crowd of flunkies had retreated to what they assumed was a safe distance. I knew better. I'd seen what this guy could do, and here I was deliberately setting him off... I suppose a fireball or a bolt of lightning to the chest would be a quick way to go.

"Come inside. I need to speak to you before you disappear again," he bit the words out, at a slightly lower volume..

I shoved his hand off my shoulder and considered bolting. Instead, I stalked past him into the tent.

He followed, dropping the flap before any of the crowd could follow. I sat down in the only chair before he could take it. He paced back and forth for a moment, started to say something, shut his mouth and started pacing again. I stared at the opposite wall of the tent and didn't say a word.

"I tried to find you last night. You weren't in your tent."

I said nothing.

"I needed to talk to you."

I stared at the opposite wall.

"I was worried."

How sweet. "I'm fine. You have plenty of other things to worry about, you don't need to worry about me."

He sighed and collapsed on what passed for a bed. "Someone needs to. You certainly don't." There was a long pause before he spoke again. "I'm sorry I exploded like that, all I could think was that someone... something... had gotten to you and I..." he stopped, staring into space for a moment, then snapped back to reality. "I don't want you at the peddlers' wagons."

"You don't tell me who I can hang out with, Rand. You're not my mother."

"They're all Darkfriends, you know. Every one of them. Kadere, Isendre, the large woman, the gleeman..."

"How do you know?"

"I know."

"Sure. Whatever. Did you need something?"

"Actually, yes. I want everything you have on the Forsaken."

That surprised me. I'd mentioned my side project on many occasions, but he never seemed to hear me. "I don't have anything for certain. Bits and pieces and conjecture really."

"I'll take whatever you have. I have to start formulating battle plans and I haven't the slightest idea where to start."

"I'll give you what I have."

"Leave it on the desk. I have a meeting with the clan chiefs as soon as we arrive at Rhuidean and I want to be finished with it before then."

I turned to leave.

"Lyse?"

"Yes Rand?"

"Where are your boots?"

I snatched a cup off the table and threw it at him on my way out the door. By the time I brought back the papers, he was off at the other end of the camp, shouting at someone else.

I never did find my boots. Mat bought me a new pair from Kadere. They were expensive but it was OK because Mat won his money back later on that same night.

After that, I found myself spending most evenings at Kadere's. Part of it was pure spite. Rand had given me a way to aggravate him and I planned on milking it. I also had no intention of giving up a chance to spend some quality time alone with Jasin.

I found him absolutely fascinating. Physically, he was my type. Cliche it may be, but I like 'em tall, dark and handsome. He was a talented musician, although I would have preferred an electric guitar to a harp. Less... fruity, dare I say?

Pursuing him proved very frustrating. I hadn't been laid since before I got to this place, which put it at close to a year. Every time I thought we were finally getting down to business, something came up, or one of his damned camp mates interrupted us.

On this particular evening, I had decided sleeping alone was out of the question. It was balls cold; I was lonely, and Rand was being a total dick to all and sundry. I saw Mat hanging at the edge of one of the groups. He'd had very good luck with a few of the Aiel women, but none of his girls seemed to be hanging about. While Rand was looking the other way, I waved Mat over.

A short time later, we were over at Kadere's wagons. Mat and the peddler were dicing. Isendre pretended to be interested in the game, leaning over so Mat had a very distracting view of her cleavage. In spite of the ploy, the pile of coins in front of Mat grew steadily as Kadere's shrank.

Jasin and I were in the shadow of one of the wagons, just beyond the edge of the firelight. I was stretched out on my stomach, enjoying the delicious sensation of his hands on my back, working the knots out of my shoulder muscles.

"You have the most wonderful hands," I purred, arching into his touch. "Harder, please."

He chuckled and increased the pressure. "This would work better if you would relax."

"I am relaxed," I said, my voice muffled by the cloak I had balled up as a pillow. I let out a muffled groan as the knot finally released.

"You shouldn't let him get to you." He finished with my shoulders and began working his way down my spine.

"I haven't spoken to him all day."

"He doesn't treat you right."

He almost sounded jealous. "I can deal with Rand."

"I'm not the only one to see it. He snaps at you constantly, orders you around like you're one of his soldiers, walks into your tent at all hours of the night..."

From across the fire, a harsh voice added, "Which explains why the two of you are here nauseating the rest of us, instead of..."

"When I want your opinion, Kadere, I shall ask for it." Jaisin growled, then to me, "I just don't understand why you tolerate it."

"I don't. I let him know when he goes too far. That's why we're not speaking right now. But I am trying to help him survive long enough to save the world."

"Do you really think he will?"

"I don't know. Right now I don't really care," I snapped, "Can we talk about something else, please. I come here to get away from him, and he's all you ever want to talk about."

"I am curious about him."

"Then go ask him yourself."

"I don't think he particularly cares for me."

"He thinks you're all Darkfriends."

"Really?" he didn't sound particularly concerned. I liked that about Jasin. Nothing ever really bothered him. "And what do you think?"

"I don't care, so long as you don't stop doing that..." His hands were on my lower back now, moving in small circles. I was melting. The man was good, I had to give him that. He'd had me hanging for days, give a little, play it off. I was tired of playing.

He leaned in close to brush his lips lightly across the back of my neck, raising goosebumps. I shivered.

"Cold?" he murmured.

"A little," I said, eyes closed. I felt him stretch out beside me and pull his cloak over both of us. I snuggled back against him. I knew how this had to look from the other side of the fire and I didn't care. Mat kept throwing me sidewise glances. He, at least, was on my side.

Kadere, however, was not. "Remind me again why I keep you around, Natael? How you're going to play that bloody harp with both hands under her dress..."

Jasin cursed, the sound muffled against my shoulder. He sprang to his feet so quickly that Kadere scooted further around the fire. I stood up too, the chill air sucking the heat from my body. "Milady, perhaps we should find a quieter place to talk."

"Talk! That's what they're calling it these days..."

Jasin took me firmly by the arm and steered me away from the fire, out into the shadows beyond the wagons.

"I apologize for the abominable behavior of my companions," he said.

I shrugged and pressed closer to him, seeking the heat of his body. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kept me close as we walked. We stopped on the far edge of the camp. He stared out into the darkness. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see anger clearly etched on his features. Usually, he was so calm.

"I'm not worried about Kadere," I told him.

The dark look slipped away, and he chuckled. "Nor am I. Kadere is the least of my worries at the moment."

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself about," and he stopped any further questions by kissing me.

Now, I'm no blushing virgin. I've been kissed a time or two in my life, and I'm generally not one to go all bleary eyed and gushy over some lip locking. Maybe it was all the time without. Maybe it was something he did. All I can say is that kiss was incredible.

The chill slipped away and I forgot about everything but him. When he finally broke the kiss, I was panting for breath and mentally cursing him for stopping.

"Jasin, I..."

He brought a finger to my lips, hushing me. "I will walk you back to your tent now."

I started to protest, but he merely brushed the tips of his fingers across my cheek. The words died in my mouth.

"I have some business to take care of. When it is finished, I plan to make you mine. In every sense of the word."

His voce was dark, seductive. Dangerous, in a way I hadn't noticed before, and it went straight through me. I didn't say a word as he walked me back to my tent, but my whole body felt charged.


	17. Chapter 17

LANGUAGE WARNINGS!

I own nothing in Wheel of Time and I make no money off these stories. Robert Jordan (may he Rest in Peace) will always be a master of fantasy.

I haven't done any writing on my fan fics in a few years, so it may take me a bit to get the groove back. I've been getting a few reviews recently asking for updates and I will do my best to deliver.

**Chapter 17: Sometimes Honesty is Overated**

Sometimes I run my mouth too much.

I know this.

So what was I supposed to do? Here I am, waiting in my tent for hours – hours, mind you - for my new friend to finish his "business" so we could get down to some business of our own and he never shows. I finally fell asleep – alone – spend all night dreaming about bloody towers, Trollocs, and city-swallowing shadows. So I was bound to wake up in a bad mood anyway.

Shortly before dawn, one of Rand's Aiel comes barging into my tent and drags me out of bed. Says the little red headed fuck needs to see me. Immediately.

Its so dark, I can't see my hand in front of my face, making a short walk seem like an eternity. I was really glad to have the Aiel fellow with me because around Rand, the dark can be pretty bad for my health. Anyway, I made it to the tent, pissed off, and who's standing there next to him looking all sleepy and hungover?

Jasin.

I got stood up.

For Rand.

So, naturally, the first words out of my mouth were not very polite.

"Oh, hell, no!"

That little red headed prick just acted like he hadn't heard me. "Alicia, I need to see your notes on the next few stanzas of the Cycle."

"No."

That got his attention. "What."

"No. Fuck you. Go to hell."

"I am not in the mood for this today."

"Today? It's not day! Its fucking dark outside and colder than brass balls."

He glared at me. I glared back at him.

"We need to plan our next move, and we don't have time to waste. I need your input on the Prophecies. The Dark One doesn't sleep."

"I wouldn't have slept last night, either, if you hadn't suddenly decided to buddy up with him." I flipped Jasin the bird, just to make sure he knew I was pissed. Some signals are universal – and interdimensional. "And if I hadn't I would have been in a much better mood. Some of us don't have a stable full to choose from when it comes to fucking. You want advice, ask one of your Aes Sedai. Even if they don't have a clue, they'll make something up for you."

"I did you a favor."

"Really? Well, consider this my thanks. Do your own damn translating, or get one of the bitches to do it for you. I'm through. " I turned my back on him and walked out.

Probably not the most intelligent choice because he could, well, zap me, but I was about to the point that I would welcome it.

A YEAR. A fucking year. Over a year, if I was counting right.

I stalked back to my tent, noticed the sun peeking up and decided to go grab some coffee from Kadere. Rand hated him and his sister so it seemed like a good place to go.

I found the coffee, but I didn't find them. I took the whole pot back to the tent with me. Didn't bother leaving a note. I don't think either one of them could read. If they wanted to complain later, fuck them too.

When I got back to my tent, I tied the door shut. You can't really lock a tent. Can't slam the door either. Its incredibly unsatisfying. Like the rest of my life.

I spent the rest of the day drinking that coffee and staying away from everyone. When one of the Rand's Aiel decided to be cute and cut the knots on the door, I slung a metal inkwell at his head. I missed, but the ink didn't.

Towards dark, I finally had no choice but to creep outside. Some things you just can't do inside a tent. I was planning on slipping off to what passed for a bathroom around here and get back without anyone noticing but I was intercepted on the way back by the last person I wanted to see.

OK, maybe 2nd to last.

"What do you want, Jasin?"

"We need to talk."

"Do I look like I want to talk to you?"

"I didn't say want. I said need."

He reached for my hand. I backed away from him.

"Go hang out with Rand. Maybe he'll loan you one of his harem."

He moved faster this time and caught my hand. "Please. Let me attempt to explain myself and then you can send me away. I won't bother you again."

The thing is, I didn't want to send him away. I wanted the same thing I had wanted the night before.

He kept looking over his shoulder, like he expected to see someone following him.

His hand was shaking. "Are you OK?" I asked.

"No. I don't have long. The _Lord Dragon_," he bit the words out as if they were poison, "will be looking for me soon."

"Come on then. Let's talk inside. There are too many nosy people in this camp."

So we went inside, and I brushed a pile of papers off what passed for a bed. I would have sold my soul for an army surplus survival cot. Of course it was hard to fit two people on one of those. Hard – but not impossible.

"Sit."

He stood just inside the doorway, staring at me. He looked incredibly tired, drained.

"Or stand. Its your choice."

He sat at the far end of the bed from me.

"Did I suddenly develop a contagious disease?"

"After you hear what I have to say," he said softly. "you will want more than this short distance between us."

"That sounds ominous."

"I,m afraid I haven't been completely honest with you."

"Go figure. You're a man. I suppose that would be a bit much to expect."

"Please let me speak."

I shrugged. And shut up. Which even surprised me.

"You told me that Rand thought that we were all Darkfriends. He was right. Kadere answers to me. I recruited him and his sister years ago, before they had ever met me. They are not the most intelligent lackeys, but they are good at gathering information, they can travel anywhere, and they are usually above suspicion. I don't know how the boy saw through them, but he did, and here I am. Last night I tried to kill him. I failed and now my fate is bound to his. He will kill me when he doesn't need me any more and who could blame him really. "

"So…"

"You've a phenomenal job with your research. I have no idea how you have managed to glean so much information from stories and faded pieces of hide. The boy doesn't know how useful of a resource you could be. He has no idea what he will lose if he loses you."

I was confused,, and he was dodging the issue. "So…"

He took a deep breath. "I'm really not sure how to say this. I didn't really plan on telling you. Ever."

This was taking too long. "Shall I guess? OK... You have a third nipple."

"No, I…"

"You like men?"

"NO!"

"You were born a woman!"

"No, burn it! I'm trying to tell you that I'm not just a Darkfriend. I knew that you were spot on about the Forsaken because I AM Forsaken!"

"Wow. I really... did not see that one coming."

"So, you see…"

"Which one? Wait. Wait, I've got it. Gleeman... Musician. You like your fancy clothes but you don't wear them well so probably came from middle or upper middle class. Travel a lot. And... the name. Jasin Natael... J. N… Joar Nessossin. Asmodean. You're Asmodean."

"Yes."

"Damn, I'm good."

"I should probably go now."

"Why?"

He just stared at me.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No."

"Take me back to your evil fortress and chain me up in the dungeon and do dastardly things to me?"

"I don't have an evil fortress."

"Cool. Then we can just stay here and you can do the chaining and such."

I stood up and walked around to stand in front of him.

"I'm going to give you a little insight into my perspective. Where I come from, we don't have Supervillains. People don't live three thousand years and they don't shoot lightning out of their ass. So its a little hard for me to wrap my brain around these concepts. Back home, we have toilet paper and real running water and cars and computers and all kinds of stuff that I'm never going to see again. I've accepted that. I have been stuck in this hellhole for over a year, and I'm probably never going to get back to a civilized dimension before I get myself killed. Around here, near death expereiences have become an almost daily expectaion. And I intend to get laid at least one more time before I die. Thank you for telling me. I assume you have some ulterior motive for it, but at this point I don't care."

I stood up slid out of my dress, dropped it on the floor, and put my hands on my hips.

"You have two choices. You can keep the promise you made last night, or you can get the hell out of my tent and I'll probably never talk to you again."

What happened after that was nobody's business, but he didn't leave. At least not for a few hours.

And yeah, it was good. Really, really good.


	18. Chapter 18

Short chapter - will add more shortly. Need to research the timeline to make sure I'm not mixing things up.

Chapter 18: Men should not wear lace.

It was full dark outside the tent. Inside, the scents of sweat and sex mingled with the smell of the old leather bindings and dusty pages scattered about my tent. I could barely make out the outline of Jasin (Asmodean, Joar, what the fuck was I supposed to call him now?) beside me. He was breathing so deeply and slowly I couldn't tell if he was asleep or awake.

I traced lines and figures across his stomach with my fingertips, bits and pieces of the Old Script, pieces of the Karethon Cycle that I hadn't translated yet, trying to distract myself from the man beside me and the trouble that he represented.

"Deep thoughts?" he murmured.

"Sorry. I thought you were asleep."

"I nearly was, but the boy is going to miss me eventually. I wouldn't want to raise his anger against you."

"I can do that quite well on my own, thank you very much."

"So I had noticed. You seem to have a talent for angering those in authority."

"I usually get away with it around here. Because I can't channel, and I don't have some kind of silly title, nobody much cares what I do."

"That's the reason I chose the disguise that I did. A simple gleeman is below the notice of kings and Aes Sedai."

"So why did you tell me the truth?"

He took a moment to answer. "I'm not sure. You are stubborn, and clever. You would have started asking questions, and probably would have put things together eventually. And..."

"And it is going to royally piss Rand off."

"And that."

I laughed, enjoying the afterglow. It had been a while. "You never really struck me as the supervillain sort. Even in the stories. I mean seriously, an evil musician? What the fuck?"

"I was among the best of my time, when I was young. Then they found I could channel, and my parents decided that my music was a waste of time. They wanted greater things for their prodigy. I just wanted a lifetime of music. An eternity would have been only that much better."

I shuddered. "Doesn't sound like a good deal to me. Music or not, living forever does not appeal to me. Dying is probably going to suck, but I think living forever would be worse."

"I was lost. I was no soldier. In a time when we were rediscovering what war was, there was no room for true artists. I was unnecessary and unnoticed and I could not accept that. So I found a way to _make_ them notice me."

"You were a spoiled brat and a right bastard, I'll give you that. But I still don't think you're on par with the 'executed a whole city because they didn't bow quick enough' or 'tortured children and small animals just to see what would happen' crowd."

"My role may have been less hands on than many other players. But just because a man sends others to do his murders for him doesn't make him any less responsible for the deaths. I executed my own father. I had dozens of my professional rivals tortured and maimed because they didn't approve of my work. Don't make excuses for me. And don't try to trick yourself into thinking I'm something I'm not. A lot of people are dead because of me. Dead, or worse."

"Worse than dead. What a concept. My mother was right."

"About?"

"I have terrible taste in men."

"I agree," he said, and pulled me in for a long kiss. The kiss had just started to turn into something a bit more interesting when I heard a ruckus outside the tent.

I didn't even bother to pull the blanket up when Rand walked into the tent.

"Excuse me, but haven't you heard of knocking?" I snapped.

He ignored me and pointed at Jasin. "You. Out. Now."

"Yes, my Lord Dragon," he muttered, grabbing his pants from the floor beside the bed.

"At least let the man get dressed first," I said.

"No," he snapped. As soon as Jasin had exited, he continued, "And as for you… when I tell you something, I'm not doing it to hear myself talk. That man is dangerous."

"You're right."

"I know I'm… what?"

I put on my sweetest 'talking to cops' voice, batted my eyelashes (a complete waste of time in the dark) and said, "You're right, Rand. I'm sorry for questioning your judgement. I appreciate you trying to look out for me and I'm sorry I raised my voice to you earlier."

"Well, right then," he paused, as if waiting for me to say something else. When I didn't, he continued, "I expect to see you at first light. Sleep well."

"I will."

He left.

And that was how I learned how to get the Dragon Reborn to shut the fuck up.

The next few weeks were probably the best time I'd had since leaving the White Tower. I gave advice when asked and stayed out of Rand's way the rest of the time. I tried not to flirt with Jasin in front of Rand, I really tried, but sometimes, I just couldn't help it.

Rand didn't let him wander about much after catching him with me, so I'd slip out at night and go visit him. We spent as much time talking as we did screwing. Both were fine with me. Mostly, he talked about music, which I knew nothing about. So I nodded and smiled a lot. I didn't care what we talked about as long as I got to spend some time with him.

I know it sounds crazy. Who in their right mind would actually _like_ someone who had done all those terrible things, but no one has ever accused me of being 100% sane. I just couldn't picture him like that. To me, he was always this sweet, intelligent, sad guy that just had a bad past. And happened to be very, very attractive.

Silly me.

I loved to stand just outside wherever Rand was hanging out at the moment and listen to Jasin play his harp, even though he only played sad songs.

I tried - I really tried - to get him to stop wearing lace, but I failed. Miserably.

Men should not wear lace.

So at this point, Rand had stepped into this Dragon Reborn thing with a vengeance. He had Jasin teaching him how to use his magic powers, which is apparently why he hadn't killed him right off the cuff. I tried to eavesdrop on one of their "sessions" but to me, all it looked like was two guys staring at each other. Which is really creepy when one of them is your… well, whatever the fuck we were.

So I let them do their thing, and tried to find other ways to occupy my time.


End file.
